The Earth is a garden, vast and wide,
Where rivers flow and mountains bide,
Each tree, each stone, each blade of grass,
A sacred gift from ages past.
Before the cities, before the sprawl,
The stewards heard the forest’s call.
They walked with gentle, knowing hands,
And understood the breathing lands.
With care they sowed, with care they reaped,
The rhythms of the Earth they’d keep.
No more was taken than their share,
For all who dwelled, for all who care.
The rivers knew their sacred song,
The winds, they whispered all along,
That balance is the timeless way,
To tend the Earth, to let it stay.
The seasons shift, the cycles turn,
In every flame, they saw the burn
Of life renewed, in death’s embrace,
The garden thrives in this shared space.
But now the world has turned its gaze,
Away from ancient, wise-filled ways.
The garden cries beneath our feet,
Yet still, her pulse is strong, and sweet.
For those who listen, those who hear,
The stewards’ voices still draw near.
To live in balance, to protect,
The Earth, our garden, we must respect.

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