Up In the Clouds Looking Down

I’m wild and I’m free, I look down and what do I see… Ghostly bubbles rising from the bottom of a once clear mountain pool now devoid of life and vegetation. I dive to double check and see if I could drink… Rotting garbage float on the surface, decaying flesh and grayish matters of silvery darts that used to play on these waters. Off I fly, I say goodbye, tears are in my eyes… Billows of charcoal fumes puff off from afar, out of ebony chimneys of murky factories blackening the clouds, dirtying the skies. I can’t breathe, I suffocate, over the desert I retreat… Vast expanse of silent dunes offers no breathing room for cannons boom and jets rain down their gifts of death on a hapless desert country, civilization’s early cradle. Off I go again, off I escape over some faraway glade… Once primeval forests now just blackened patches, empty landscape where tree-tops used to shoot up to play with the wind and mate with the sun. My bones are aching, I’m tired of flying… But there are no trees to perch on, no air to breathe, nor cool water to quench my thirst. Is there an end to this madness, what have they done to my world?