MY PLANET
This is the planet I see.
Not some tidy round blue ball hugged by fluffy angels.
I see a moving body.
A body rippling and pulsing with forces and desires of her own.
Throwing off the corset we try so hard to strap her into.
She does not want what we want.
She spits out the plastic we feed her.
She undresses and splays open her legs.
Giving birth to zillions of impulses and ideas; thought forms and creature beings.
That walk and talk with a passion.
The likes of which we have not seen nor felt.
In a very long long time.
She wears us like jewlery glistening in the sun.
Every rose, every bud, every seed, every carpet of moss knows her beauty before we do.
We are last in line on the great chain around her waist.
She positions us on her hips and rocks us back and forth, to and fro.
We are in her cradle.
Best let our Mother sing.
Let her sing us lullabys in the wind and rain.
Best we all shut up and listen.
Listen to her breathing the sunrise and sunset.
