Who Gave Us Permission

In a world so magical,

so full of endless miracles

I wonder how we became this.

When was the day we traded green forests for grey horizons,

clean rivers for plastic veins,

fresh air for lungs full of smoke?

I ask the universe..

Who gave us permission?

Who told us the trees were ours to cut,

the ocean ours to poison,

the mountains ours to hollow out for another dollar?

We act as though we own the Earth,

yet our names are written here only for a moment.

Mortality is inevitable,

so why are we racing each other

toward a finish line we will never keep?

Why does money sit on a throne

while the one home we all share

crumbles beneath our feet?

In a world so magical,

so full of endless miracles,

how did we become the very thing destroying them?

When the rivers run dry and the forests fall silent,

what will you tell yourself?

That the money was worth it?