Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Musings of the Last King

As I survey my Savannah 
My thoughts linger upon tomorrow
The stream bed is dry 
Dry as a month old elephant bone,
Picked clean by the Hyaenas.  

The grass is shorter this year
The earth is cracked from the heat
The Sun, that almighty star in the sky
Has become enemy instead of friend
Then again, perhaps that is too harsh a thought
There are strange smells & particles
All wafting through the air
Invisible to my eyes 
Yet not intangible to my senses
The humans are too blame
I pity them in their ignorance
I have a pride to look after
Something they make harder every day
Poachers & their loud metal thunder sticks
They bring nothing but Death
& a feast for the flies
They killed a son of mine two days ago
For no reason at all
They call this lack of reason “sport.”
My son was just a cub
He showed them curtsey
& he gave them proper signals of warning
They mocked his growls as he lay dying
I have not forgotten that day
& the too frequent days like it

I sense the danger, the coming of change
I will have to move my tribe soon
I fear the home of our ancestors
Will remain unfit for life for some time to come
Oh dear mother Earth, look what they’ve done
There are so few of us left outside of their labs & cages
Yet still they hunt us
If we so much as defend ourselves they become monsters
Creatures without mercy
They ride out in their great big honking & grinding things
They say they call them Jeeps
Ah, but the black smoke that bellows from it’s belly
Will be the death of these humans
It sounds more like what they called a Dragon
Heh, good luck taming one of those for a ride

The sky is growing thinner
& the heat is ever rising
No rain falls to save us
Perhaps it is our time to die
I will do what I must to survive
Part of me wishes to warn those humans
To tell them how our history repeats
But then I remember my son
So young, he was our future
As they have destroyed mine
I shall let them destroy theirs
When an environment is raped 
The scales of the Universe tip toward judgment
& the following annihilation will be brutal & swift
I mourn for my descendents that will never be born
Whatever survives will be but a shadow of it’s former greatness
I take one last look at the dying Sun
So very different we all are, yet so much alike
In the den I will rest & tomorrow I will give my best
I can only hope that it is enough to satisfy the balance
So there might be a future in which we continue to exist

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