by Nicholas Koler
O how she sings the song of the world!
The crash of waves and their peaceful demolition.
Man vs. Nature in their war of attrition.
Mother’s children are slowly disappearing.
Flimsy contraptions taint the earth; crippled giants leering
At the funeral toward which the world is steering.
Mother’s face, once beautiful and bare,
Now scarred and mangled and so few seem to care.
And she cries and she wails
The interminable song of the world.
O how she sings the song of the world!
The lyrical din of the earth,
The hushed secrets of the wind,
The singsong babble of the water,
The impassioned fury of the fire.
A somber symphony to accompany the sheer futility
Of mother’s ire.
A lament, a dirge, a strangled elegy,
A nocturne, a fugue, a sotto voce litany:
The despondent song of the world.
O how she sings the song of the world!
Composed with the stars and performed by the moon.
Must this beauty end so soon?
Her tears fall frozen.
A fateful cry to still the earth.
The world stops turning. And so do we.
The song ends as soon as it falls out of tune
She has no words and she cannot sing.
The web of vitality is slowly unfurled
O how she sang the song of the world.
