Our earth is a creature of the night
in the morning she closes her eye
and rests through the heat of day
as we buzz through her, into her
like grazing flies only occasionally
looking up at her cloud strewn lid.
But at night, she comes alive
when the sun sets, she awakens
and lifts her dying eye
when the dome is gone
she can see her family
dancing a happy promenade.
How can we ever feel alone
when right beneath us she moans
can't you hear her as we bleed her dry
like fleas, vampires, we take her
blood and give ourselves light.
She shutters and quakes in her pain,
rolling mountains into landslides
again and again
all the time she cries,
screaming up hailstorms, tornados and like kind.
We carelessly chop at her hair the
only thing that gives us the air
yet wonder whence comes the smog.
Gaia, mother mine...can't you see
your children despise you,
hurt you and yet...
you still feed us, though you are very ill
you breed us though we can't really feel
cradle us in sweeping song though we can't hear
how much you love your children.