Whisper

The city angrily burns
Its black plumes obsecuring,
its neon and halogen polluting
the clear stratosphere.

The truth that the stars long to speak,
the message the stars store in their ancient heart,
Their souls well up, longing to pour down.

Upon any who would stop and turn,
to hear the faint message the shining worlds speak

to ones looking,
To be filled with wonder.

The city blares its messages in a million distractions.
Mind us! look at this!
It says in wave after wave of killing fabricated hurricane.

The mountains they bow and look on
with a smile.
The trees they continue to birth,
Life and fruit and growth, over and over
The green plains they whisper.