Updated from original posted in 2012.
Deep in the highlands of Hubei
some still hear its song
rising out of mist and mountain,
gray home of gods now gone,
refuge of wayfaring mystic and misfit,
place where the wild torrent
coursed through gorges
once upon a time ago.
But now the long river languishes.
Murky deepness drowns Three Gorges,
sighs behind a concrete slab
controlled and still until release.
To wander
ancient river plains
that birthed and nurtured
feudal lords
a brand new land
of grit and coal
of dusky skies
that smother cities
town and village
torn and pillaged,
taken into concrete
Borg till onward
into paradise
of tollway roads
and high-rise rows
in cities of ten million
souls, new centers
that were meant
to sparkle, broker
fortunes, beckon
dreams and draw
beleaguered masses
forward, soar
into the gray-brown
skyscape, lined
with cranes
and belching stacks
that stitch the land
and sky with smog
and seal the earth
beneath the load
of human progress.
East meets West
and ups the ante
heeds the siren
staggers forward
fading into midday haze.
And from the highlands
of Hubei so very far
away from Eden
I can hear the good Earth
groaning, crushed
beneath a billion souls
just seeking salvation
in wealth. And so
the modern world goes –
as Gaia sighs
and sets her gaze
to wait upon a wiser world
of sages and keepers
who care for her creatures
in ages of Edens to come.
