I read, the other day that, even at the depths of the ocean,
there are now tiny grains of plastic.
Will that be our ultimate legacy?
Petrochemicals at the bottom of the sea.
Wilderness tamed by plastic.
Didn’t we have a spark once,
A divine drop of goodness?
It seems that we’ve lost it,
No, we’ve traded it
and all we seem to make is ash, and plastic.
Ash and plastic where dreams of beauty and goodness and change-the world
Became discarded trinkets and scorched battlegrounds.
Ash and plastic, round behind out impressive edifices
On the smouldering waste-heaps that we try to hide.
Will that be our legacy? Or will we learn
And somehow find the way to re collaborate
So that ash and plastic might be made new.
The burnt wood image came from pixaby