The end seems inexorable. The blindness of men seems to end when We watch our own destruction. However, Nature struggles to rescue us of our destiny, throwing voices to envision that there is still time to correct the path.
Global warming, as one of the many problems facing humanity, is the enemy in turn. Efforts to prevent this, or most likely just stop it, are not sufficient, and in the indulgent gaze of the majority, We are preparing to fight a battle more outrageous and extraordinary dimensions.
Their manifestations are clear, compelling, but the punishment to our inability to reach agreements, is even greater than the tragedy to come.
This poem pretends to pay homage to what I believe is the ultimate guardian of our planet: The Iceberg.
To this wonderful creation in extinction,
last guardian of a planet called Earth.
Misleading epithet, call you so, white giant.
Last guardian of multi grain called earth.
Diamond tail of the cosmos that threatens
reduce in dead dust what one time was golden light.
Your skeleton of frozen water, seems to crackle,
seems to mourn, yet drowning in the silence
your overwhelming complaint, without echo, without word
The threat of your wound is diluted, transformed into sea
In storm, in fury.
Nobody listens to you when you fall, sleeping giant
That smell like ice, turbulent rain.