Where do, you find it unpolluted air?
Every wind, bears toxic particles galore,
The wilds, are devastated beyond repair,
and little remains, for Nature to restore.
Where may you find, the pristine stream,
or savour, the sparkle of a mountain rill?
Perchance, only Memory's elusive dream,
can that thirsting for a lost purity fulfill.
Where do you seek it, a placid reedy lake?
A place of serenity, so waterfowl abound,
a haven for denizens, their thirst to slake.
Pilgrim, such places are not so easy found..
So few are havens, by humanity unspoiled,
left but a parody, ravaged by human touch.
Does a race exist whose hands are unsoiled?
Where do you find it I see no sign of such.
©. Copyright: Bernard de Silva. 12-Jun-10.