Consequences

Ah, there it is.

Sunset sprinkles golden

Across the starving landscape

Breathing life into the spirit.

 

The sun-warmed air breathes

A slight breath of cool

As it wafts over the

Struggling body.

 

Across the way

New fawns find their

Legs and speed across

The sun-parched fields.

 

I sit, as on most days,

Watching the waning colors,

Begging for calm and cool,

Baked and roasted.

 

It is impossible to

Move within the charring

Landscape, withering and

Crying for moisture.

 

The burning brain

Cannot produce a single

Thought worth thinking

As the hours dwindle.

 

What have we done?

The Universe scolds

With flaming heat that

Blazes our breath.

 

And all around turns

To blackened cinders.

We have killed ourselves

With our lust for comfort!