Wounds of the green

Beneath the sky blue,

Nature whispers, bold and dew

Her rivers enchante, and mountains sing,

Yet so called her social animals do bitter thing

Her forests weep where axes bite,

The stars grow dim with fading night.

Greed gives scars on sacred ground,

Where once her peaceful heart had bound.

The seas now churn with filth and pain,

Her tears fall down in acid rain.

Her creatures vanish, one by one,

Chased by shadows we have 

She pleads in whispers, low and kind,

"Will you not heal what you maligned?

Am I not the cradle of your birth?

Your mother, the keeper of your earth?"

Yet still her spirit fights and grows,

Through concrete fields and melting snows.

A tender sprout, a blooming flower,

Nature bends but holds her power.

Come oh Rahil let us heal what greed has wounded,

Lets together regrow the green 

Make it look like our Mother 

Worship it has clean and serene