The strength of one, the will of many,
brought to us like tragedy,
but like a tree, wills are uncanny,
it is rooted, with beliefs and gravity,
With each leaf special, extraordinary,
Mother Nature weeps,
as each leaf begins to fall,
her anger flows like creeks,
As deadly as a poison flood,
the hollow mind of man,
the country sides covered with blood,
Mother Nature stands,
like cleansing cities w/ explosive suds,
and invisible hands,
The Hand, it might not seem to clear,
as the sunshine showed,
the Mother Nature's rage and fear,
as man took out her home,
What fight might she have left in her,
as men and women die,
sometimes looking back right now,
we sometimes wonder why,
Caught in a vicious cycle,
of human versus nature,
We cannot see,yet, past the blinds,
that sometimes makes us hate her,
So I ask you now dear friend,
is your own will true?
Are you like the rooted tree?
Or wood chips in a zoo?
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