This thing

Nature's recalling all that was hers, withdrawing her gifts of the grass and the trees, the warmth of the sum and the cool summers breeze and the people, they look but they don't really see this thing that is them, this thing that is me.

All things that we know and have known before, all gone away and not seen anymore. They take all that glitters and just leave their litter and poison the sea and the air and me.

The people they watch while the world burns away, but what do THEY care, THEY won't be her THAT day. They live and they look but they don't really see that this thing IS them and this thing IS me.

The world will be gone and so will we, this thing that is them, this thing that is me. But what can you do and what can you say to open their eyes and stop the decay?

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