Retribution

A line of cars zips by,
people knowing that
they drive in their
own funeral procession:

Fumes of the exhaust pipe
drift into the air,
carrying pollutants to
linger, listlessly, in
the atmosphere.

Mother Nature intones:
They must pay!
And so, slowly,
temperature rises,
fueling monster storms
that claim countless lives
and melting icecaps,
a sign of impending Deluge
that will claim
countless more.

Even Nature herself suffers--
vibrant coral reefs now
lifeless onyx, once
lively animals, scurrying
with abandon, ready now to
take their penultimate
breaths.

Humanity so imbued in
Nature that Nature must
be remade, uncompromising
wasteland, dissolution
to mystery in transition,
and then the blossoming
of a new aesthetic, rebirth.

Expected process arriving
too early, too soon for a
gradual evolution, as
unconcerned humanity
turns it into retribution.

Can it be halted, or better
yet: reversed, ominous path
restored to former glory?

Yes, though humanity must
remake itself wholly,
not Nature. For only
in new habits can a coexistence
occur.

While I hope,
while I envision myself
in this remade life,
I see the steady
funeral procession;
I see smoke billow
from factory mouths;
I see the haze of light
obscure Nature' nightlights

and I tumble from the
high cliffs of hope into
the icy sea of the future.

Oh, humanity,
Oh, Nature,
reconcile please-- I cry
and then I sink under
the surface. so small
in a vast sea.