In the heart of the emerald realms,
There stood broad and giant elms,
With their lush leaves,
And roots so deep,
That they whisper their tales to the breeze.

In the old days,
When there was less haste,
Carefree did we all pace,
For silent we maybe,
Ruled the planet with grace did we.

Then came the mighty man,
With his wonderful little brain,
Working in overdrive,
Creating inventions to benefit,
Only the mankind.

Across several ages we stood,
Withstanding disasters we persevered,
But yet not once did he bother,
To consult our thoughts,
For the betterment of this planet,
For us both.

Yet now the sunbeams seep,
Despite the thick canopy,
Provided by our tall friends.
Along with the beaming rays,
A subtle hope seems to infiltrate.

Not all men are bad.
Not all innovations are destructive.
Maybe they do care.
Maybe they do hear.
The cries of the forest’s ache.

A new age is on the verge of dawn,
Deep in our old barks we feel,
The joy and delight of the younger trees.
For Forests and Innovation finally weave their hands
In a magical melody,
Of Harmony on land.

Image Courtesy:  https://pin.it/3YwzzmPgO