Psora

Psora,
As if,
a mite jumped up,
and bit our skin,
infecting human kind,
then generations of suppression,
drove it to our mind,
now microbes and bacteria,
consume our inner being,
while other undesirables,
cause endless misery.
as if from sins of fathers,
and generations gone,
we point accusing finger,
and blame heredity.
Then separating good from bad
in fixed morality,
to love our friends
and hate our foes,
who is the enemy?
As if we had no part to play
in tearing female from her man.
in separating from our heart,
can thought infect?
you know it can!
and now six billion people,
cells of a half dead corpse,
membranes thick as fig leaf,
psoriasis hard and coarse.
We cut our trees, we plant cement,
cloak earth in concrete robe,
rip our mothers atmosphere,
science paves the road.
search in vain for culprit,
the answer lies inside
if we persist in looking
it will persist to hide
the price of knowing is to know,
and knowledge leads to fear,
proliferation, isolation,
gaia sheds a tear.
Psora,
As if.