( More people die from polluted water every year than from all forms of violence ) In the pulse of air a rumbling’s begun to shape us, the asylum of affinity and Heaven exhaling away a throbbing orb. It's burning too brown now with no sympathy or reprieve. Echoing in our uneasy eyes is a vibrating dread just over our heads, through angry shades blown of dust. No break, no dawn, just a violent flailing! Sympathy and faith, joy and mirth, pawned for a few seconds more of our haggling for an nth of unhappy greed. Humanity is scratching at Love with a steady coldness. The children and their laughter, their dance and their chatter, the moon and the stars and our green thoughts are all drained to murmurs by our full-scale sorrow. Where are the sunrises and sunsets seen through caring eyes? Where’s the happiness in our laughter, the high tides in our Love? Here… all the lawns are groomed like a preacher’s beard, trees traded for sprawl, gardens undone by man’s oily venom, for
(The Weaver's Song)