What if….The white horses that crash upon the sand,
Instead of being water, were roiling dust?
Rolling in an unstoppable gallop across the land,
Instead of being blessed, would they be cussed?
But, of course….They already do!
And, in the dust, beneath their hooves crush,
For the short term benefit of me and you,
Killing the rain forest in a headlong rush!
Beautiful white horses, more than slightly soiled,
Even now on the virgin land,
Since being born in the sea, heavily oiled,
Gallop too, on to soft white coral sand.
And, when all is black, brown and grey,
Some will look smiling to their bank account, others will weep,
Sadly, what more can I say?
How can we now, this once blue and green earth keep?