The familiar tracks frequented by toiling farmers
Are lost to the spreading lines of blackness
That stretches its colonising claws from cities,
Crawling maliciously towards the emerald hillocks.
~
It brings noise, smoke, greed, and filth.
Hungry faces poke out from four-by-fours
Looking for game, sniffing for adventure,
Scanning for impressions on the forest floor.
~
Gone are the old taboos with the new religion,
The guardian deities and spirits grow silent.
Man no longer asks and takes what he needs;
Rather he kills, uproots, and takes what he sees.
~
Nature has become the hunted and man, the hunter.
But when Nature dies, so shall men too.
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