The Disease Of Deforestation

By Sam Illingworth

Looking down on jaded canopies,

Blinded eyes quickly cast their

Milky gaze across logging

That persists without permission

And wildfires that raze without restraint;

Ploughing through virgin shades of green

To create hard edges where

Assassins lurk in dampened shadows.

Escalating in their severity,

These infected hosts




Smearing their sickly saliva

Across the sweltering skins

Of their unwitting enablers.

Every swing of the axe

Perfectly attuned to the

Avarice of their appetite;

A duet of devastation

Curbed only by a hidden loop

That beats against this toxic tide.

A cue nearly missed;

As we lose sight of the forest

Amongst the trees we have felled.

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