Tree leaves help create paradise

Tree leaves in a forest produce moisture, and that moisture accumulates into air and entices rain. This process is called “transpiration.” That’s how planting trees can replenish, de-desertify, and bring life into barren lands.

The death of sacred things

Tropical forests

are where we evolved from and forests are fundamental to our physical and psychological well being. They’re being depleted ruthlessly by greedy corporations who partner with governments to produce sad stuff, to sell us sad stuff for profit so that we can buy it, get hooked on it– to be less sad? Don’t buy it–break

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Forest, with you

This patch of land preserved for cell phone towers give way to a family of trees and shrubs and the few wild that roam, still I go here sometimes in the crux of my loneliness surrounded by shade, and the peeking of the sun once in a while most of the time, I’m barely existing

Our oasis

I’d go to the end of the world for you babe. To the core of this great old rock, high up in the sky, whatever you want me to say. I’ll say it. Our story’s mapped out in the palms of our hands, and when we place them together, the stars align. We’d live in

My man, forest

I became a real vegetarian six years ago. The thought of someone suffering overpowers the taste. Little by little I’m noticing that I don’t need much at all. Clutter binds me; I want to detach myself from things that I don’t use. I don’t care to put on too much makeup, I don’t care too

Boxed shell

How real is this fact That I’m out here, able and intact Underneath shelters and shelters of Clothes, blankets and thick walls Preserved in like a specimen Segregated and closed off in a pitch black cellular chamber That’s silent, faraway, and forgotten Awake, with a buried heart that wonders Whether there’s a man in a

Tropical bird

Please don’t leave, he whispered from the depths of his heart Her forest eyes pierced into his mind and took him elsewhere Paradise Where red-yellow birds flew over the rainbow And the waterfalls drenched into the ground Don’t leave me, he thought As he buried his nose in her hair And got soaked in that

Red planet

Here I am, in the red planet. The atmosphere here stings my skin as I sit alone in this arid dust bowl. The sky’s red and it’s making my eyes bleed. My crimped hair’s brittle and it obscures my vision. My throat’s dry and I squirm on the rocky ground in dreams of quenching thirst.

Line of sakuras

In the morning I see you in a whole new light. I sense you with a dream-like feeling in a surrounding that echoes faraway birds, where you’re looking away. This is a special place where you exist; sitting and reading alongside a line of Japanese sakuras in a Brazilian rain forest, where Indian elephants roam

Noori

There’s a beautiful bird out in a forest. She flies her little wings up and down the hilly terrain near the glistening, cold Himalayas. They refer to her as Noori; this beautiful, colorful bird. On rare occasions they get a glimpse of her striking beauty. Yet always, they hear her tweeting her silly, sweet songs