Thursday, February 15, 2007

sylvan sorcery

Among the arboreal delights, within the truest trees that tower tall above, between the beams of breathless wonder as sunlight saunters slowly from the sky, there is no sense of time, only of seasons. There is no sense of place, only of ecological wealth, there is no scale as there are no fish.

Nocturnal creatures abound in the dark, diurnal creatures frolic in the light, fronds masked as vegetation form the fringes as those seasons change.

Buzz, shred, chop, cut, drain, plane, arcane.
Bevel, level, shovel, pave and cave to urban sprawl.
Cement, framing, windows, doors, cars, streets, pollution, waste.

What is right? Can humanity coexist with nature, or are we doomed to overtake nature destined towards our own extinction?

3 comments:

L>T said...

very poignant...thoughts like that came to my mind while I was in LA last week. They are crazy with building down there.

ghost said...

alliteration is the truth, phil. preach on, brother.

Debstar said...

Rip, rip
woodchip
turn it into paper
throw it in the bin
don't give a damn

Thats's my song to you today.
Really.... it's from a song by an Australian guy called John Williams.