I wrote this sonnet with consumer drives and effects, on culture and other life, in mind.
A fire burns in a faraway land.
The ardent and cheap flame consumes the wood,
It grasps the naive world in a vast hand,
While eating everything the Earth has brood.
The ever changing sky of stars and sun,
Hastily covers its beauty with smoke.
Unique clouds now an overcast of one.
Shades of gray keep august colors under cloak.
Many burn in the blaze for the bliss of few.
They perish bewildered, soundless to them,
While none can see affliction in view.
To abate one must decollate the stem.
A fire burns in a far away land,
And it is tended by your very hand.