Many years ago, breathtaking beauty covered the whole Earth. There were majestic mountains many miles high, the peaks of which touched the sky. From these mountains flowed fresh water in streams so crystal clear they seem to defy reason. Everything was bathed in the warmth and glow of the sun. Daylight brought everything out to play.
It was then that animals and man lived in peace. There was no reason to fear. Abundance for all was the gift. The great mother was the giver, she loved and cared for her children. You could reach up and pluck the ripest, sweetest fruit. The leaves would decide when it was time to fall. They would become the soil that would become the leaves again. Every living thing played their part. It was their contribution.
There was only the power of love, for the love of power did not exist, yet. When man arrived, he had a new way. His was the better way. Let us lower the mountains, he said. Therefore, he took from the great peaks their coal. Its dust clogged the streams and the water no longer shined. Man burned the mountains down and the burning made the Earth hot.
Soon the abundance of the fields disappeared as if somehow a kiss had been defoliated. Need and great suffering were born, and with it fear. No more were the animals to roam free. An unseen hand plucked them from the land. Even the tiniest among these could not hide. The disease of mankind’s greed had infected it all.
This is the way with progress. It forever pushes, the lesser beings forced to move out of its way, bow their heads in submission. Progress is strong, who can deny it? It cares not for the needy or the weak. Soon the small will have their day. They will see the coming of the sun. In their death, they will be set free.