Pollution

The flow of air, a stem of grass, your inner sense of power. The earthly lore, we drift away. Human longs. so stale with air, that burden all our pain. There is a blame, tis you, tis I, root cause and needless meaning. Listen to the nature, as kill the earth, underlying cause if found, real effort never happens. We are now a whisper In the wind of never ness.