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“The Verdant Oath of Gaia”

(An Epic for Environment Day – June 5)

I. Invocation of the Living Earth

O breath of Earth, in twilight’s greenest vow,
Thou pulse beneath the mountains’ argent brow,
Awake thy voice, O Gaia, long betrayed,
To stir the winds and waters once obeyed.
Let forests speak in tones of moss and flame,
And rivers chant the loss we dare not name.
Upon this June, the fifth of sacred keep,
We cry to stars where angels also weep—
What time remains to mend what we have torn,
And bless again the world we daily mourn?


II. The Birth of Elements

Before man’s fire, the sun first learned to burn,
The oceans rolled, in silence did they turn.
The first tree bent to wind, its prayer was pure,
Its roots in stars, its branches ever sure.
The beasts were born from breath of sky and sea,
Each form a hymn of vibrant deity.
And lo! When humankind did rise from clay,
The Earth still sang—yet knew not they’d betray.
We named the world our own with iron breath,
And sowed the seed of time’s decaying death.


III. Metaphysics of the Garden

What is the soul of air, if not the mind
Of wind that moves through leaf and humankind?
And what is fire, but reason’s burning wheel,
That warms or scars, depending how we feel?
The earth is not mere dirt beneath our feet,
But flesh of God, through which our spirits meet.
The tree is thought. The river—memory's tide.
The sky, a scroll where ancient runes abide.
So too, each leaf contains a ghostly cry,
Each bird’s descent recalls a saint’s goodbye.


IV. Dialogue with the Cosmos

O mighty stars! You bore us out of flame,
Yet gaze now cold on Earth without a name.
Did we not swear—when light first struck our eyes—
To guard the spring, the oceans, and the skies?
Yet oil and greed have veiled the world in smoke,
And thunder speaks where prophets never spoke.
Now glaciers bleed and coral tombs arise,
The sun protests with scorching, truthless skies.
Must Eden fall to numbers, charts, and steel—
While spirits die in silence none can feel?

V. Prophecy of Renewal

But lo! There walks a child with seeds in hand,
Her song rebirths the forests of the land.
She speaks not loud, but every living thing
Responds in kind—a whisper turned to wing.
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