We keep searching past the moon,
Through velvet dark and silver dust,
Searching distant worlds for signs of life,
Yet forests fall without farewell,
Their pure lives thinned to smoke and scars.
Our oceans become heavy with our hands,
And keep drowning under stars.
The fox, the whale, the rooted seed,
The wing, the reef, the rain-washed stone
All speak a language.
A language older than any world.
Than any world unknown.
Perhaps the miracle we seek
Is not so far,
Perhaps not out of sight,
Perhaps the life worth saving first
Is with us all around
And maybe this earth
Is turning toward the light.