The Nature

Sitting in a gentle tree,

watching the seasons go by.

It's all I need,

yet a tear stings my eye.

I stare from my haven,

looking out from my perch.

Depressing at what we can't be,

gazing at what we wish we were.

I see fires rage,

across a hilly plain.

I see trees become a page,

and guns causing pain.

So sad, much pain,

our will to care shows no avail.

Like gentle rain,

becoming feisty hail.

Nature is filled with serenity,

yet is filled with untamed wild.

Nature is filled with love,

and yet is filled with hate.