If the Host Gets Angry

The steps of a thousand wild creatures,
Thirsty for blood and hungry.
A thousand groans from the scattered masses,
Piercing my reason and my sight.   It is not clean,
Dense black like the hand of the god of death,
Appears like a strong magnetic current, drawing all in.   I hear the Earth's cry,
Wounds gaping, festering,
In floods and pollution.
Stealing a thousand laughs and jests.
Poles melting like a mother's tears,
Mourning the demise of the cosmos.         ****This reflects the current frenzy: everything that can be monetized is immediately turned into money. Tranquility is no longer spoken of; everything has become about money. Skyscrapers rise, forests are cleared, and rare species disappear. If nature gets angry, what can we do? We cannot obstruct its path; we merely have the right to use it. When our time is up, we will be gone. But what do we contribute to future generations? Can science and technology feed hungry stomachs? That won't happen if we don't have rice paddies. Yet farmers are increasingly marginalized, as money dictates everything.