Think you’ve heard enough of present day Byran well take a look at past Byran. I would just like to direct your attention top this poem I wrote a couple of years ago while sitting in the New Jersey wilderness. I intended to share it but never did, so hear it is in all it’s glory. Ode to the Mother
The world around us is a beautiful place Forever changing, fascinating But why oh, why is nature our mother Are we the sons and daughters of her labour, her creation? What if nature were a man? And named him father nature Would we be altered, changed different? This world is changing and we are no longer the sons and daughters of nature. Nature has become ours to grow, to nurture, to destroy When you look at a tree What do you see? The beauty? The wonder? The magnificence? No, we see the materialism the consumption, the greed. Mother Nature has been transformed We look after our mother especially in her old age Well Mother Nature is millions of years, so why don’t we care for her? Why must she crumble and fall? All this time she’s provided us with air to breathe and food to eat Why must we slay her? Shame on us But still Mother Nature fights back With the help of the few, aid her, support her, comfort her Those of us wise enough to understand what a great Mother Nature is Now look at a tree. What do you see? The beauty, the wonder, the magnificence The infinite wisdom Mother Nature carries As I look around in awe of this evergreen wilderness I speak to Mother Nature herself Dearest Mother, I am sorry about the hurt and pain you suffered. The sorrow, the agony But now we are here to make it right To come correct For we are wise clever and intelligent We will savour the water you provide for us We will not slay the trees that provide the substance of life We will not expel the gases that break your soft skin This our promise. A promise that may spill But a contract, an ode An ode to you dearest Mother Don’t give up on us just yet For we are still your children Children make mistakes We do all that it takes We are in the wrong You gave us mouths to speak Eyes to see Ears to hear Noses to smell Fingers to touch But what are we supposed to speak And see And hear And smell And touch I don’t know, do you Mother? This is our free will You gave this to us as a gift Something to cherish Speak words of wisdom, words of love Maybe a moral or message See the wonders of this world The magnificence it has to offer. Hear everything around you From the small buzzing fly to the bellow of a thunderstorm Smell the dust that gathers on our guns, our axes, our swords Touch the ones closest to you Hold them tight and don’t let them fall This is what I believe our mother intended for us Make her proud.