We stood in awe of living Earth,
Her storms, her fire, her sharpened fang.
The forest roared, the night was vast,
And every shadow whispered end.
Her storms, her fire, her sharpened fang.
The forest roared, the night was vast,
And every shadow whispered end.
In fear we built, in haste we walled,
The fire tamed, the shelters rose.
Stone set against the storm’s command,
A fragile hold against the wild.
Yet in the dark, the mind took flight,
Through food of gods the visions came.
To emancipate from nature’s hold,
The Source was sought, the spirit stirred.
We dreamed of towers, dreamed of light,
We raised our cities from the ground.
But spires that once had promised peace
Became the prisons made of glass.
The root was severed, soil forgot,
The sky above became a screen.
To evolve is not to turn away,
But learn Her love, and live as whole.
But still the rivers whisper low,
The forest hums, the visions rise.
Through opened gates the cosmos speaks,
Revealing nature as the key.
To reconcile is not return,
But weaving back the severed thread.
The root, the star, the pulse, the flame—
The universe beneath our steps.
From fear to flight, from wall to root,
Our struggle is the circle whole.
Emancipate, then reconcile,
Reconnected, soul aligned.
LOZ on Medium:
If this poem resonated with you, join me on Substack to get new work directly in your inbox.
