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They Call Me Dirt
The seed without me would not birth
Hail ye, the planet, known as earth
I exist for naught but toil
My mark a stain forever soiled
They call me MUD, they call me DIRT
Heaped by the mounds, how words can hurt
Humus, rich, and versified
The archive of all human strides
I am home to all that live
Abundant fruits I bear and give
Without me flora would not grow
Mother earth, where life is sown
My ownership is pride and gain
When deeded on.....I stay the same
Solid, tho oft times I quake
Moist and cool, neath countless lakes
Wars are waged, and blood is spilled
To claim my grains, my plains and hills
And yet I'm mankind's resting place
Tho all avert....my last embrace
Lady A
November 19,2003
The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of
saying This is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was
the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars and
murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not anyone have saved
mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to
his fellows, "Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you
once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth
itself to nobody. ~Jean Jacques Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of
Inequality
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Excellent how you work my brain!
Thanks,
Emilie
of the best I have ever read
I love it ...
Blessings,
Libby
Lov eTinka
Jack