Material world

We live in a material world but seems like at times we forget what sort of fabric it is made from. It is not about how much money we do or do not have, the phones or computers we use, whether we own or rent our property, the cars we drive. Money may open doors but can lead us down blind alleys not wide open spaces to create something distinctly new and unique.

The real material of this world is in its diversity; a patchwork quilt of different races, religions, sexualities and abilities. However, these make up but one square. The forests, hills and rivers with the birds, insects and animals with their diversity make up the other squares. Also we are not the stitching that holds this quilt together, it is the love that all things on Earth share and runs through us all that does.

Instead of trying to undo the stitching and/or add more human squares to it, is it not time we looked at our square, seeing what it really represents not tarnish it with bloodstains and hateful words? Also why do we hurt our own kind or get jealous of others? We cannot trade squares with nature but seems many think that we can and make the quilt to suit our skewed view of the world. Please stop.

© Fi S. J. Brown

 

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What is this world we created?

Just take a look at the world around us,
Take a look at the forests, rivers and mountains.
Sights and sounds for all our senses,
That we now find ourselves blind and deaf to.
Giving us all that we could ever need,
But we continue to take and take till all runs dry.

What is this world we created?
Thinking we can replace bird song with car horns.
Why do we think we own it?
Selling it’s contents one by one for a pound or two.
Have we made ourselves royalty?
Creating towering palaces of concrete and clay.

You know every day a species is lost,
We would rather buy a phone than protect a Saola.
Animals for food and entertainment,
Their homes destroyed to make way for another mall.
Somewhere Mother Nature cries,
For each day we break another piece of her heart.

What is this world we created?
Thinking we can replace bird song with car horns.
Why did we never learn to stop?
Perhaps we never saw the green light to start with.
What must our ancestors think?
To their legacy that we now pass on to our children.

© Fi S. J. Brown