Breathe [Collection of Short Stories/Spoken Word]

Nature

I praise nature but shut the blinds. 

I walk through a forest, trying to find my way back home.

As if trees and green weren't enough for me.

As if written history was all you could see,

I just couldn't bring myself to it.

The shadows of a tree where the sun never hits,

expired footprints of a village or tribe a century ago,

where ancestors and history seem to glow,

now life for me is moving slow.

How could I call forests and mountains beautiful - when I've never seen them in person?

How could I praise nature when I won't even bother opening the blinds of my window?

Shut from nature, a crescendo of man made tires and voices somewhere outside,

nature now should be considered a lie.