Without knowing the future or the way, we are not lost –

Paths and stones, stars and wind, the flight of birds,

All lead us back to our source, and the other animals

Sense our presence and watch our progress,

Gleaning from our scent and tread whether we mean ill or good.

Seasons change from birth in Spring to death in Winter.

Summer heat and wildfire take all in their paths,

Allowing for new growth to immerge in the coming years.

There are plants that heal and plants that kill, and

All plants rue the loss of connection,

When we remembered their names and meanings.

All of life cries, watching one species kill Mother,

And the universe will soon reclaim us all.

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