Is Anyone There?

Is there no one there who can hear the wind?
Or see the majesty of forests and mountains?
Or smell the sweetness of citrus groves in bloom?
Or remember golden grain waving in a prairie breeze?
Or hear the call of elk from a distant ridgeline?
Or taste the delight of the garden's offering?

Mountain peaks and canyons see clearly.
Rhythmical, rolling oceans recognize what is real.
Rivers carved into the earth do not deny the obvious.
The vast cover of sky pleads for pure air.
Forests, elegant and ancient, stand silent in their intuitive wisdom.

And all the while, we, stewards of a sacred gift, languish in lethargy
   and laugh in the delight of defiance.
Ignorance is yesterday's excuse.  Rejection of reality is a ploy for power.
Absurd arrogance rings through the marble halls of the elected elite.
Shame stalks the polished powerful.

What do we tell our children?  And their children?
How do you look into her face and wish her well?
What do you say to him about his unfolding future?  His dreams?
How do you say to the incredible grandeur of our earth home:
"You are superfluous.  My passion is power.  My goal is greed
   that fills my plate.  I AM."

Is there no one there who can hear the wind?
Anyone willing to listen?
Someone able to hear?
A voice, a heart, a conscience that cares?

Surely this is a bad dream from which we will awake.
This cannot be the legacy of the grand experiment.
Look into their wondering eyes and try to explain
   the meaning of nightmare.