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Air temperature drops with increased elevation.
Water temperatures decrease with depth.
Mountain peaks hold snow and ice.
While earth's core burns.
Land is safe.
Land is whole. Land is solid. Land is warm.

Desiccation.
Land is devastated.
Land aches for the sky, the sea, the silence.
Land dreams of cold, heat, not tepid stillness.

Land is populated.
The core is free.
Birds haunt the clouds.
The waters flow swiftly, unhindered.
Land is populated.

Where did it arise?
This life?
This solid matter climbing, walking, running, hurling itself.
Again and again.
Into the land.

Land is tired.
Land has been trodden on.
Stamped down.
Fired upon.
Dug up. Torn up. Killed. Reborn.

The ground heaves, shakes, throws fits.
Oceans retaliate.
Reaching for land, sensing weakness.
Meaning to pull it down, back into the sea.
Land is alone upon the deserted shore.

Bombs.
Cars.
Skyscrapers.
Side Walks.
Foreign words.

Land aches to return to the Before.
To the trees.
Grass.
Hope. No, no emotion.
Land is tired.




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