Rapacious Tsunamis

Manufactured life,

a synthetic existence,

a dazzling illusion, hiding decay beneath

a shimmering mirage masking watery rot beneath.

From where such comes?

A twisted evolution,
a hunger for perfection,
a fear of the natural.

Paths of growth, molecule by molecule,
its osmosis bringing the promise of life.
But the thirst for more,
for what's beyond the natural order,
infects the very air we breathe.

Nature warns us,
with the rustling of leaves,
the whisper of the wind,
the silent plea of the dying seed

caught in the waves of amoral wash.

We wear masks of manufactured beauty,
concealing the scars of a broken humanity.

For…

Technology, a siren's call,
a gleaming facade of progress
knows not how to quell the gluttonous beast,
devouring all in its path.

Lest we drown of weakness,

hearken to the heart

 now a hardened shell of cynicism.,

 once a cradle of love.

For even as we struggle amidst the ruins,
a flicker of hope remains.

Embrace the quiet moments when the masks have fallen away,

when shorelines afford gentle lapping of reflected behavior,
and remember the simple truth:

 that beauty lies not in the veneer,
but in the raw, unfiltered essence of being.

Yes…

There's still time to shed the acidic slick atop the jetsam and flotsam,
to return to the innocence of the first breath,
to find solace in the natural symphony of life.