Ancient One

My roots spread gnarled, disappearing beneath soil The soil dyed red with blood. It seeps up into my roots, thicker then a substance called oil Sickening human blood. For centuries I have lived in peace, before you. Before your wars, your expansion I lived back when silence was all the earth knew Before your expansion Now I have many scars Tarnishes in my memory The earth has become filled with so much smoke that I cant see the stars Tarnished memory I have long been dieing of sickness My roots are wilting I fear my memory shall fall into darkness My roots have wilted A/N Somthing that i came up with yesterday out of the blue. This poem sits well with a recent post on myotaku.com that I did and I have decided against my better judgement to include it. So starts it. Long ago, back when not was it human souls that walked the cracked and moist soil, trees ruled. Ancient Rowans stood tall and proud, their memory stretching farther then the roots they laid out. The wind would whip strongly through there patchworked branches, and they watched over the land; caring for the forests sprouting below, sapling and some old ones who looked to it for guidence; back when the forest was very much alive. I fear the human race is hated by trees alike, though it not in mother nature to hate, simply to be and provide whilst taking occasionally. We humans have cleared forests, destroyed the ancients; tarnished there memory and earned a hateful spot in it. Back when the salty waves lapped and weaved againt the rocks, not yet eroded into miles of beach, back when shells as big as your hand were common but never harmed; for simply there were no humans. Back when the Earth was happy, the ancients, I believe, Ruled with a strong bark, and a gentle heart.