The World Is Too Much With Us
By William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
They throw plastic in nature like sunflowers spreading their beautiful seeds into the wide world. A wild world which is reduced by hypocrite creatures. They shape traffic jams in the busy places where this creatures used to live. Inefficiently moving, lay wasting our powers and gasses who fill lungs of little ones. The world is too much with them. They fear and hope it will be solved one day, but doing something for this rotten clod starts in their own hands. Risks are clear but they are honoured to play the game. Already lost in the very beginning when you creatures intend to be independent to nature. Ocean tides are affected by moon, winds starts to blow like up-gathering communities in my tribe. Rational thinking is included laws of nature. For this, for everything, we are out of balance.
O Aphrodite, mother of nature, stirring the right way is difficult for herd animals. Herd animals brainwashed by self-seeking leaders of this gruel world. I’d rather be a snowdrop, hope, spring forecast, peace. So might I, nailed to this rotten clod, have glimpses of resistance against a world warming up when winter said her last words. When the wind is howling through de communities of these ‘people’ and blowing away the blanket resting on the skyscrapers not letting any beam of the great fire inside. The blanket which is formed by these creatures in this traffic jams.
Having sight of Poseidon who is ascending from the sea. Or Aeolus who is wearer for the clouds. The world is too much with them. Them who are ruining this world and spike my precious leaves.