In A Beautiful Place

I realized that I had been imperceptibly, but steadily, abandoning time spent outdoors in the natural environment and replacing it with time indoors, or among people and traffic and television and the myriad distractions of modern life. I lost track of how beautiful the planet we inhabit, actually is. Even in small patches of woodland, surrounded by loud, littering urbanity, we can still feel the low-frequency energy of the planet if we stop and let our inner voices go quite. Humanity seems to be intent on destroying as much of the Earth’s natural graces as possible, in the shortest amount of time. But there must be hope we will correct our thoughtless behaviors, before it is too late to matter.

in a beautiful place,
a boiling spring of clear, unsullied water
surges up to the surface of the pool
and spills across moss covered stones
into a stream of belief.

in a beautiful place,
skies are the blue of aquamarine marbles
tumbling from the hands of the innocent.
hands not yet familiar with darkness,
disenchantment 
and the true nature of killing.

wise men tell us
there is no going back to Eden,
but wisdom is a cumbersome trait.
it is easier to foretell what will not be
than what might.
it is a foolproof endeavor to
be wise about the past.

in a beautiful place,
tireless wind exhales the world.
shadows of remorse skitter past,
twisting thin strands of steel-gray hair,
into jumbled mats
that can not be untangled.

in a beautiful place,
the sun does not always shine.
there is redemption in the scowling thunderheads
and faith that the deep-throated storms 
will replenish
the bottomless spring.


— Chris D. Moore 	
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