Do Not Call Me Mother
††††††††††† War is almost as old as man.† I am older and have lived through each and every one of his wars.† The outcome of such nonsense has never been a positive one for Life.† The life of those creatures and things that man survives by, that is.† Without us, he starves for food, air, and drink.†† He would float off into nothing were it not for my support, my housing.† Aside from my request for peace upon this race, I ask that you, humans, do not call me mother.† No mother has suffered such abuse and disrespect from her offspring.† No child of mine would trample my body the way mankind has.† My generosity is why man continues to pump blood through his veins.† He needs my care and until he cares, I will continue to suffer at his hands.
††††††††††† Though your technologies have gained you time in my presence, I abhor such destruction of my limbs.† The trees are an extension of the body I lend you.† I hand man breath through these arms and they are cut down mercilessly.† Watch carefully which lifeline you choose to clip.† Have a listen to your brother, the Dalai Lama.† He knows what I speak of and what your technologies create.† I allow you to drink of my blood; your water, as it flows through my body.† But it is used along with other elements I possess to create weapons of mass destruction.† Is man aware of what he destructs with such weapons?† My body suffers lacerations from manís stupidity.† Earthly flesh is torn and forgotten.† However, I cannot forget.† And do not think retaliation is not possible from my side of the table.† Perhaps man has noticed my winds, rain, the burning I send through his creations.† The ruble I create through my anger, with a simple shake of my body, has appeared in his history before and will continue until he sees.†
††††††††††† Open your eyes dear gentlemen, an ironic form of address, I know.† For all that was truly gentle exists only in fiction and perhaps your youth.† More than most of manís practices, what he chooses to do with youth is most depressing.† I watch daily as children grow up learning how to destroy beauty.† The schools built for them with so much of my insides, and your money and time have proved to be futile, as none shall develop into anything greater than you.† Human societies are the least likely of all to carry humanitarians in their midst.† Greed fuels manís day as well as night.†† Man kills to greater his chance of survival, but what is there to gain?† He shall die like his brother, though not with him.† Does he care?† No.†
††††††††††† How can man be so careless?† Why does he begin war when the outcome has never furthered peace?† I almost laugh at the idea of war over land.† How man thinks he can own any part of me simply by killing those who rest there.† You will never own my body, my bones.† You cannot even earn my respect.† Death to you is only entertainment, pleasure at the greatest cost.† Iíve often thought war is simply a result of ennui amongst man.† You read of murder, hear of disease (another of my attempts to get man to hear my cries). Suicides are just another story to man as well.† Let us consider this particular destruction of life.† These souls are most depressed, but even in their sadness find time to be selfish.† I too could be selfish.† I could commit the sin of suicide and where would you be? †When I give up on man, then war will end.† For some reason though, I continue my humanitarian efforts.† I know your compassion lies dormant but exists still.† Prove me right or prove me wrong.† Either way, one day, you as a race will die and I will have moved on.† Your great Buddhist brother knows also that if man can find his compassion, truly and honestly, then he can begin a movement of peace.† Good luck I send and you will need, as life is your wager.†