The Throw Away World

The mountains will be thrown away, good-bye! 

The rivers and streams, thrown away, good-bye! 

The Man with the Child in His Eyes as well. 

She beckons, underside of the city, 

Is in her hair and cloths, and yet you find 

Nothing of value when you look, 

What strange world is this, where we greet than fall? 

I look-out at suffering with a nest in pieces, 

I look down from a great height on poverty. 

We are not made to look within, but behind 

There lie the bones of Earth, the bones of sky.