Snow
Reminds me of death.
It blankets everything –
Removes all color
With its pallor –
Dampens all sound
With indifferent silence.
Whether we war
For gold or oil,
Like ants over tin foil –
Whether we rest or toil –
Still snow descends
On all ants and men.
In the same vein,
The silent mountain stands,
Even if we blast its slope
To cut a vein for coal to flow.
Its indifference seems to show
We could be ants instead of Man.
The ocean in storm –
Its cacophony of sound
Drowns all cries
Before they’re born.
The rushing brush fire –
It incinerates the hillside,
Nests, mansions to ashes
That fall and scatter wide.
This is Nature’s bounty –
That from its implacable way
Men from every country
Might see their will to sway
The world from turning
At last fall away.
For the World alone shall stand
At Night’s end:
To that power we too, like ants,
Shall bend.
