by: Jaysee John Pingkian
Theme: "If you want to save the river, save the mountain"
Age: 14 years old
We never know the worth of water till the well is dry. Thus, day-to-day humdrum affects the greatest especially when we think of it as something normal. Dead lakes, dead forests and dead people that even just a spark of cigar may cause their periods.
"You've never acted humane, shabby humans, now that you've successfully colonized the land and waters at the expense of taking your future generation's chances of making their ends meet," thus grieved the dreamy river as his voice pinched to falsetto catching his breath.
Not until November drops in, you wouldn't think of death probably. Society's fissure ideologies induced to anchor deep for these to cast fruits of inequity and ideas butting ones skull to the river banks has been as frail as public health; same way fishes that take in air carbon dioxide the like way out. Aye, it could well say that Red Tides have come in other way thru.
Has somebody sung an elegy for the fallen? It seems wood woodcutters have snigger off another tree and authorities seem to knock off halos over each skull. And to us who's next in line, why compete for mercy with the world tomorrow when we could just strike down a Narra seedling today?
If you were just to recycle one ton of paper you use, you'd be keeping sixty pounds of dead trees out of the sky. Babies, too, won't mind even if you tell them, "It takes twenty trees to keep you on disposable diaper for two years."
The rivers so mystique and fanciful bestowed prospects of the surface as cartographers agree. The glasy rivers shot so low and the moon cried with tears of diamond in its might reflected on the rivers at night kindling the darkened sky.
And the Dreamy River's protest for the life of those who await and the living, was left unheard even to his very last breath, and with long lost dreams...closed its eyes.