Soon all the trees will be fallen -
scorched to sterile, by a distant
Activated by the darkness, of man's
own irrational mind
as you and I, sit sipping, that welcome
cup of tea.
Laughing with each other - making love
in the last of the day's setting sun unawares
that our existence, will soon cease to be
blown to windswept, dispersed ashes
no footfalls passing
outside the sounds of
contaminated - Presidential crime!