Your globe aimlessly wanders, tilting and gallivanting, perpetually dancing closer and further from your sun

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And I follow you, lazily unaffected

 

Magnetized by your moon, your oceans push and pull, and you sink and swim while……..

 

I float.

 

You inflame your trees to nourish their soil, for new beginnings.

 

I plant old seeds in new pots and let weeds invade.

 

If you were my globe, I’d sequester myself – the true contaminator. I’d leave your comfy

atmospheric bed and plunge into your oceans, sanctioning your water to clear me of my senses, my ignorance, my selfishness. I’d let your salt purify my infidelity, my disloyalty to you, my globe. I’d bury my remaining dignity in your sediments and transform into rock-form, where I'd reside.

 

I’d devote my life to that rock, my immboile reservoir. I’d eternally rest in its arms, in your arms, undisturbing your natural process. Until you collapse, until your oceans run dry and your birds no longer fly, my rock will persist. For as long as you hold me, I will not erode, uplift, or release.

 

Alas, my globe, you are not mine. Your global conveyor belt will slow. Your soils will decay.

Your winds won’t blow.

 

As your climate changes, and your temperatures rise, I’ll hold you in my arms. I’ll mourn your dolphins and your rainforests. I’ll collect your rainwater.

 

Please don’t let go.

I love you.