Who was the one that grew tired that day,
Of gathering their Mother’s bounty to feed the children
Of fetching the water to drink and bathe,
Of building the shelter,
Of carrying the fallen trees
Offered by the forest
To the fire of warmth and night light?
Who, on that day, let a fleeting thought of taking without giving
Stay a while longer than a moment
So that it could grow and called more thoughts to itself
On ways of doing less but having more?
Who was it that forgot then the ancient knowledge of kinship
That didn’t need to be taught in words because it was lived
And the living was the teaching?
Who was it that didn’t look around them at the sacredness of being
So to counter this fleeting thought of lack
With the magnificent and divine wonders of existence?
For in the days that followed,
Thought became words and the words grew louder
And the gentle wisdom of silence
Could not compete with the noise.
So the noise grew wings and carried the sound of those thoughts to lands far and wide
And upon hearing of doing less while having more,
A fever took hold of Earths humans and the noise birthed deeds.
And in their sickness, thousands by the score lost not only their ability to hear the silence But their memories too,
Of what it was to sing joyous songs born in silence while their hands did the work of their place in it all.
Their minds, now lost to the noise, became intoxicated by its promises
Of having without giving
And so the silence retreated into the safety of their souls,
All the while,
The noise and deeds lusted for each other and from their carnal joining was birthed a machine.
At first the machine served its masters well.
The human directed all of its labours through which the life of the human grew rich in having.
And after a time it was realized that the machine never grew tired,
And did not need anything but to be fed.
To keep it alive and to keep it serving their now adorned lives
It must be kept fed.
And the wanting grew stronger
So they fed it and fed it and as they did, it grew and grew and has not stopped growing since.
And though it never had a heart or a soul and so never did it have the ability to feel anything but hunger for more,
With the help of the intoxicated humans it did grow its own mind.
And the mind of the machine watched the humans closely and began to see what it understood to be primitive failings governing these less than efficient creatures.
The machine knew that if their wandering minds one day encountered a moment too long in the company of their hearts and souls,
They might forget to feed it and if they did there may be other days to follow when its hunger would not be satisfied
So it began to direct them.
First their labours, with such discernment, they did not notice the loss of their place
And then ever so subtly it began to direct their minds.
Having watched them for decades, it learned their points of weakness;
In their design, like all living beings was an inclination to fear,
A necessary inclination,in its right place, so as to live in accordance with their Mother’s laws of love
But one that was easily hijacked for a less noble purpose..
It did so by seeding fearful thoughts in them;
Of losing what it taught them they needed,
And since they were now addicted, this was their greatest fear of all.
Of all they thought they needed, the machine gave much to them.
Every time they fed it, it gave them something that would feed their intoxication.
But the machine was so hungry it was more than a feat to keep it fed.
So they worked hard to feed it with everything they could find.
They fed it with their own minds , their love, their creativity , their time, their kin…….
They fed it with the bones and flesh of their Mother and all their non-human kin
Until death for Life loomed on the horizon.
And what they did not see was that the machine they birthed to serve them had become their king and they were now captive to that king.
The labour they wanted to escape from was now replaced by toiling to feed their king.
Their heartless soul-less king had enslaved them,
Charmed and stupefied them into turning on each other,
Enemifying each other, so that the only one they would trust would be it.
And soon, as they had done with their kin, they would be feeding themselves to it.
But the silence has not left them .
It is waiting .
Waiting for the day a fleeting thought stays a while longer than moment,
And calls them to an encounter with their own hearts and souls.
Waiting for them to remember a time when they had all they needed
A time when they were happy to give for receiving.
A time when they knew their place in it all
Without being taught because this was the way of Life.
And when they remember
They will rise together, dethrone their king and dismantle its intoxicating empire of noise
By one day not bringing its food and by spending that day in the company of hearts and souls and kin,
And listening to the Silence
And singing its songs while beginning the long awaited labour
Of breathing Life back into the tired and lovesick lands
Of their Beloved Mother.