Nature has been requested,
The beauty of the living,
The quantity of diverse kinds of tree’s,
The stinging bee’s,
That generate the timeless honeys we eat,
The wolfs that balance themselves,
By howling at the pulling bloomed moon,
The spiders that protect,
By eating the insects,
We want away from our homes,
Oh but beware,
For they can also sneak their way,
Even unto the kingliest of thrones,
The countless fish that fly in the sea,
And how the sea reflects a cool color of blue,
Against the forest of green,
The multitude of birds that swim through the air,
The precisely carved out mountains,
And their valleys down there,
Nature’s beauty will prevail,
Nature is natural,
Or is natural nature?
I’m at a guessing,
But I think they two mean the same here,
I cannot go into detail of the world,
Our earth here,
For I don’t know what it feels,
Thinks see’s or even knows,
If it recognizes,
It’s existing here,
But what I do know and see,
Is that nothing is new here,
As well nothing remains the same,
For the orb we are placed on,
Is always in a changing,
For we may construct houses a mile high,
But everything we make,
Has only been manipulated,
Out of the natural beauty,
That has already been created,
As the world is in a continuum of change,
We should hold reverence of this globe,
Instead of thinking we hold the reins,
I’ve never known,
heard,
or seen,
The words that we have dominion over the earth,
But only over the creatures,
Beasts and crops,
And still we’re only beginning,
To act properly of that,
And I’m sure in the days of old,
We held nature’s beauty,
Precious like gold,
I do believe in a short time to come,
We’ll come back around,
To counting our precious,
Planet again as a fortune,
But let me tell of a beauty of nature,
That surpasses all those treasures,
For on its crown,
It grows its pasture,
Go a little bit south,
And one can get lost in its maw forever,
Go farther south,
And you rise on its twin peaks,
If you decide to travel any further,
It’s a short distance and worth it,
You will reach the sweet grass,
But be careful when go any more southern,
For you may slip into the moist valley,
Which is between the two extremity’s,
Now this is the most beautiful of land,
It has mountain peaks,
planes,
and valleys,
That you can get lost in,
For it’s a pleasurable place,
To be in,
But this is my poem of nature,
Or maybe it’s a poem,
On the natural,
Who knows,
But the readers interpretation,
Of what it’s been told…

For Tommy Pargac,
out of his request.
Ryan B. O’Reilly
2001