Pollution
O, a foul and wretched plight that haunts our earth,
Where once was beauty's breath, now tainted air,
The poison of our ways, a bitter curse,
That spreads its wings and leaves no soul to spare.
The rivers, once so pure, now run as ink,
Their gentle currents choked with filth and grime,
No longer mirror skies of blue, I think,
But bear the scars of our relentless crime.
The air we breathe, once crisp and sweet, is marred,
By noxious fumes that blacken nature's face,
The very lungs of Earth now strained and scarred,
As smoke and smog engulf her sacred space.
And creatures great and small, with tearful eyes,
Bear witness to the havoc we have wrought,
Their habitats were destroyed, and their mournful cries,
A testament to what our greed has brought.
Yet still, in darkness, hope may find its way,
If we but heed the calling of the land,
To mend our ways, and in repentance pray,
To cleanse the wounds we've dealt with a steady hand.
Let innovation rise, with wisdom's grace,
And seek solutions, bound by nature's laws,
To mend the scars, restore the earth's embrace,
And heal the wounds inflicted by our flaws.
For we are but the caretakers of this earth,
Entrusted with a legacy profound,
It falls on us to cherish and give birth,
To a world where purity and life abound.
So, let us strive to mend what we have marred,
To cleanse the rivers, purify the air,
For in our hands lies power, though hard,
To bring about a world pristine and fair.
And may the generations yet to be,
Look back upon our actions with regard,
That we, like Shakespeare's pen, did set them free,
From the tragic tale of pollution, marred.
