I am the black Sheep.
The fire of my intellect is ablaze in my mind's eye.
It is one of Mother Earth's more reasonable gifts.
I will not be there on the day she dies, and neither will most of her children.

Her story is one of roads littered with the refuse of indifference.
And of rivers polluted with the filth of neglect.
Of shiny black underground caches sucked dry by the unquenchable thirst of a whore.
And of fears heightened by the hindsight of regret.
Of her children kicked out into the cold of extinction because I needed room to stretch.
Also of ravaged landscapes and barren wombs when before we had all that we could fetch.
And oh how her zone has been violated.
From even her celestial brothers and sisters she lacks privacy.
She should have heeded the warning on my gift.
A skull and crossbones means poison as well as piracy.

Yet, so shocked by my frailness, mother took pity on her human child.
Cautioned the prudent use of the gift  and not to let it run wild.
But wild it did run and so far from her I have come...
Till now I have taken flight for an angry uncle that my telescope has in sight.