When did I start see it first-hand,
the sickness creeping on our land?
I can tell you when:
I was maybe ten;
you begin
to understand.
What my first thought, that time I knew
that no one out there had a clue?
It’s easy. A child
can sense the defiled
in the wild.
That is true.
How long have I been at this war,
a fight for something else, for more
than my own winning?
Since the beginning,
still spinning,
evermore.
Why do I bother keeping on?
Why fight the weeds that choke the lawn?
What good being still,
while evil acts kill,
and free will
soon is gone?
05 MAY 2025