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Mother Earth
Good Mother Earth,
what have they done to thank you, those whom you nourish,
clothe and shelter?
How do they return your eonic patience seed bed of life,
fallen garden of God?
Dragged down by those you strengthened, trained, uplifted,
yet against you now pitted, or so it seems.
But if against you, poor fools against themselves they turn, for
what is mankind without you,
Oh good Mother Earth?
Your living air, your living waters, with
teeming life abundant,
are soured and are dying,
plundered
and forgotten, wasted, withered
and left wanting.
They strike their spike's deep into your skin,
your lifeblood they draw up, your
secret, hidden treasures
sought out to your very depths.
Passive planet,
you give everything to these ones
above all others loved and favoured. Still
what thanks,
what thanks returned to you, good
Mother Earth?