Once in the forest, dark and deep,
The trees were felled, no soul did weep,
The earth was stripped, and the land laid bare,
But no one seemed to really care.
Yet when a windmill stood up tall,
To harness wind, to power all,
The cries of protest filled the air,
As if some dark and dire affair.
The irony of this, my friend,
Is lost on those who can’t comprehend,
That while we need our power source,
The earth we harm, we must endorse.
We cut the trees, we dig the coal,
and Our energy demands take their toll,
Yet when we seek a better way,
The naysayers scoff and have their say.
Let us not be blind or deaf,
To the harm we do, to our earth,
But seek to find a better path,
To harness wind, to stem the wrath.
For if we fail, we’ll surely find,
That all our efforts were but blind,
And in the end, we’ll be undone,
By our own hand, by what we’ve done.
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