Forest

The Race You see a leaking pipe, and know— Though slow, each drop begins the flow Of gallons lost to time and rust, A wound disguised beneath the crust. Each bead a gem, with breath inside, As if the water, too, has pride. Not just a leak, but something more— An ocean waiting at the door. You watch the cars in silence pass, A humming stream of steel and glass— That sterile hum, so clean, precise, Conceals the cost beneath the ice. You hear the glaciers crack and slide, And smell the gas the engines hide, You taste the burn, you feel the cost— And know how much the world has lost. You are attune to the song of the world, But the notes arrive twisted, tangled, and swirled. The air you breathe smells sharp with fear, You see beneath the gilded veneer. You walk the world and feel the spin, Each breath you take—a step, a sin. You search the sky for what to bring, To make a place where spring birds sing. You see it then, with eyes grown wide— The grass is greener on the other side. You tear ...