There was a cloud of purple winged butterflies,
fluttering to and fro, settling like thistledown
on the flowers and leaves of the thickly wooded
slopes of the rising morning misted mountains.
Bees hummed amidst the ruby red geraniums, and
their tiny legs filled with he mysteries of multi
grains of pollen, carry back to their hives the
richness of royal jelly and revitalising honey.
Crashing through the undergrowth an awkward
aardvark snuffles its way through the shifting
grasses. Ants flow freely along the fingering
branches of the battered and broken beeches.
Life was luxurious in its capacity to feed and
grow without greed and grumbling until, we
invaded their land, cutting down their trees,
burning their homes and their happy future.
Slowly, inexorably we created a desert where
life had teemed and twittering birds had sung,
destroying the beautiful world and its balance
and despite the hour we defy the truth and