Life Goes On
The sea is all around
Without a single speck of life.
No dolphins frolic in these bow-waves.
The forests are silent
Without the buzz of insect,
Rustle of creatures,
Or chirp of birds.
All is garbage,
Rubbish and desolate wasteland,
Baking in the heat.
Towns overflow with poverty and despair.
Life is sucked dry
By the sheer weight of numbers.
What teemed is now sterile.
What sang is now silent.
What lived is now barren.
What they call life goes on.
Life goes on
I was struck by the absence of life as I travelled around South America. We sailed for days through seas devoid of life. There were no dolphins, whales or porpoises. There were a handful of seabirds. Days would go by without a single booby or frigate bird.
On land it was the insects that were missing. Apart from the flies at Cape Verde, everywhere else was quiet. I was used to the chirping of cicadas, crickets and grasshoppers, but the Amazon forest seemed quiet. There was no profusion of life. Without insects there are not the animals that feed on insects, there are not the pollinated plants.
It felt as if I was witnessing the slow death of a planet. The buzzing meadows of my youth had turned silent. Now the rainforests were following suit. The seas were becoming wildernesses.
Everywhere we went there was poverty, people sleeping rough on the streets, in shacks and shanties, desperate for work, food or shelter. Teeming millions reaching out into the wilderness and consuming anything that moved, clearing vegetation and creating garbage filled wasteland out of pristine jungle.
Too many people; too few living creatures. It did not need projecting far into the future to see the outcome.