The people of the Earth, were once married to it. In a Garden good and pure, they lived quite happily. Even expelled from the original garden, they were welcomed into the jungles of the Earth, warm, wet, wild, welcomed onto the mountains, majestic, snowy, and bright, welcomed into the valleys, colorful, spacious, humble welcomed into the deserts, dry, warm, sunny. They lived through good times and bad, Rough weather and fair, in jungles and mountains and valleys and deserts, near streams, lakes, rivers, dreaming of the shores of the earth, the water lapping kindly at times roughly at others, against sandy beaches. They dreamed. And they saw that the Earth was good. And the Earth gave them fire. In great bolts lightning struck brilliant and terrifying followed by rolling clapping thunder falling from the sky in violent streaks absolutely beautiful and bold setting fire to a branch. And the people were fed by animals and plants fed by roots and fruits, rabbits and buffalo. They ate and they loved the Earth. They soon saw how big it was how full of rocks and trees how tools could be manipulated and they sought to form and create like the Earth did. They began to construct. But their structures were imperfect, and the Earth knocked them down to make the people start over. But not seeing the imperfection, the proud little people simply got angry, constructed stabler buildings stabler things erected their own mountains and carved their own valleys with dynamite. The more they constructed the more they fought. Pride and ownership this is what they sought and soon there were bombs. Guns. Metal cold to the touch, wood hard to the head they fed on their pride their ownership, their new jealousy quickly turned to rage to desire coveted other’s things and so destroyed took from the Earth and continued building and forgot about thanks. Suddenly a lake could be carved overnight great cranes that didn’t fly but that lifted and turned towered in the sky. When the people divorced the Earth they also divorced each other. Rained down bombs like hail pelted the constructions of others the bodies of others the minds of others. They bred hate and lies so numerous and thick they took to the skies displayed on billboards displayed on blimps displayed on planes. Sometimes they blew up trains just to make a point. When the people divorced the Earth rain fell like acid burning mouths held open by thirst but long placid desensitized to suffering and war speaking out no more they ignored what they saw happening- as birds dropped from the sky where they once flew high as doves do likes kites do as children do spreading hope and calm. The last kite I saw stuck in a tree. And it was cut down just last week and it was the last of the originals in my neighborhood. In my Forest. In my Jungle. But if the people ever took the Earth back- perhaps flowers new would bloom flowers unseen for years due to slash and burn farming and gloom and people would assume that this meant that the doom would dissipate from the room. No longer would people build tombs but let themselves live in and of the soil nevermore to toil and the weeds would boil away but not from the noxious car fumes. The people of the Earth were once married to it bound together by the circle of life. like people bind themselves usings rings and circled anniversaries on a calendar. What if like hawks we circled back around looking down from our planes back at the ground, saw the destruction, devastation, and dust the beauty peeking through anyway and saw that we must come back home and find our way back to the garden?