All the trees are connected
In Pandora they grow.
While on our floating rock
They are covered in snow.

We ignore them, forgotten,
While they take their long rest.
Unlike the nature around
People fail to be content.

Why can’t they be like children,
Who relax and play all day?
Swoosh, thud, hooray,
What better than a sleigh?

To the pure white snow,
How can cement compare?
What glistened is now rough,
Like a paper that you tear.

I feel the snow’s beauty,
Know in it does God lie.
Yet we turn away his gift,
And it’s making our world fry.

If old could become new
Perhaps we’d be in touch.
But the world is unplugged
It’s all just too much.