The Orioles of Childhood - a poem

The Earth
The Earth she spoke to me
on wings of orange and black
not seen
but for memory

She spoke too
through the trees
     who cry out
to those who listen

of times to come
Times when the ravages
will no longer
be able to be ignored
for the sake 
     of comfort
     and convenience
                          for they will strike
                 our very bodies
                 as they have Hers.

"But if he is not rich, if he lacks inner wealth, he will crave what is outside him, and materialism, the driving force of the worship of progress is born."  - Thoreau 'Walden'

How does one gain inner wealth?  How do you?

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