Faraway Places Poems: 5/11
Nature, Faraway Place


© Chance Stewart

Aldaca was one of the wild sanctuaries that existed long ago, it was destroyed years ago by man moving into it and killing the ones who use to live there.

The still air,
the serine peace,
the time stilled even,
this was the place long ago,
hidden in a break among the trees,
a meadow had laid,
once considered a great wilderness.

Hawks soared,
foxes barked,
deer grazed off the soft wood trees,
butterflies fluttered on the breeze,
grasses grew,
wild flowers flourished,
in this land of good tiding.

Rolling hills,
smiling sun,
cotton clouds,
blue skies,
and gentle wind.

The great wilderness it was,
thought to always be,
left in the world as a safe haven,
and never found by men.

Black skies,
dying, helpless cries,
ash and smoke,
unnatural hurricane,
loss, agony, pain.

If you look for the place,
once called Aldaca,
you will never find it,
it was lost,
in time and space,
gone like dust,
gone like the past.

If you look for it now all you would find,
was cities and roads,
dry grass and noise,
you will find nothing of the once so great place.

Yet one thing still remains,
locked in the depths of time,
it is nearly gone,
nearly forgotten,
some think the thing remaining is just a myth,
others believe that it is still there,
the great myth of Aldaca.

The memory of this ancient place is still here,
and I tell you,
while some may argue that this is a myth,
there once was a great place of Aldaca,
yet it is now run over and destroyed.

Still there is more,
beautiful places of Aldaca still exist,
where the sun still shines,
and the sky still blue,
yet fading they remain,
falling fast and losing their domain.

Soon the great places of Aldaca will fall,
no more birds of prey,
no more gentle Autumn breezes,
no more myth of Aldaca,
no more places of serenity.

If you could save these places,
why wouldn't you,
and since you can,
why don't you?

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