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THE TREES OF OUR BREATHING




The day we decided that our love of plastics was more important
than our love of trees.

The day we decided that our precious genius was more precious
than the genius of the soil.

The day we decided that our fumes of industry were more acceptable
than the exceptional air we breathed.

The day we decided that our immediate family meant more to us
than the immediacy of the collective.

The day we imagined that we were crafting something worth repeating 
over what was returning within the constant flux.

The day we imagined that our toxins were acceptable
as long as we could accept the status quo.

The day we thought we could own something
and began smothering it all by the parasitic idea of ownership.


© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.

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