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A fact in the rainforests,
A memory in the polar caps,
A myth in the deserts,
It shows itself in the youth of fruit,
Takes physical form when we are ill,
And destroys us when we have left our shell,
It comes to us in great wealth,
But misguides us when we abuse it,
It grows on what we have abandoned,
And flees from what we have built,
We acknowledge its value,
Trying to become it,
Yet we still punish it with the rain that burns,
Soon it will become memory,
And memory will become myth,
If nothing is done to protect it.
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