I don’t know where else I’ll find a rustling wind
Moving and reminding me of life.
Everywhere seems so still
But here the earth still shakes
Shimmies and dances,
So of course soon it will be killed.
Like everywhere else of natural value
Humans are like death machines
Sucking away the rustling wind.
My own despair on seeing behind the veil of reality
Of how we are here, but arbitrarily
And the universe traverses on
Its timelines untroubled by our small concerns
And by this I mean the birth and the death of humans
So with our brief and imperfect senses
How I feel we should live here but lightly
Is not shared. So they continue to seal the tomb
Of the earth.
The small and temporary bliss I feel when I stand here on this hill
Is like the small and temporary bliss of living at all
And it will inevitably end