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(one)

Less than a meager speck, this little earth of ours is breathtaking. We, the bipeds; proudly call ourselves "homo sapiens" or the wise one. Co-owner though, we pretend to own the planet, not knowing that we, too, shall perish ...

raindrops still shall dance on autumn leaves

birds and bees shall chirp and hum

and the dancing brooks still shall whisper unto the riverine blossoms

And the wise one (hah ...) keeps on its sanctimonious plundering of a shared property - as if the birds and trees and the brooks never matter. With all our cortical prowess, with all the knowledge harnessed on the way, and with all the wisdom of a precious mind, routinely we succumb to the hubris of the abyss ...

(two)

Warrior they were, yet they never dropped a "Fat Boy" from a distant sky, nor they killed their innocent brethren in gas chambers even in the gruesome corners of battle rue. They are watchful; from their placid Avalon, the great Knights of olden days are are watchful; may be a little fearful and tearful too.

full of debris

detritus reign

not the sanctity of sea left alone

not even the pristine space left alone

not the rain

not the sun

not the wind

not the earth 

immune is none 

Shangri-La 

no more

What a mess! Messed up but still ours to love and care - ours is this priceless planet; to hold and share and love and care.