The sun was sinking below the sea,

reddening the thundering waves,

as they seek ever to wash away

the ever encroaching, life taking

human indifference to its might.


The orange tinted clouds breathed

in the scent of salt and green rich

trees that waved in the wind, and

lifted the souls of those who saw.


Streaks of black reached out across

striping the sky, and lovingly

the light dimmed and flowers

drooped their heads and wept for


the loss of Spring and Winter,

the lack of a life giving rest,

and the grief of seeing so few

of others survive this creation


of a kingdom blind to its glory.


Great goodness gone to greed,

darkling skies of shining stars,

hidden by the smoking smog

of the smoking, oil rich denials.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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