The poetic dilettante

Remember those days , when we used to play in its ephemeral glory ?...…. Blind folded, I fall on this earth,   Fulfilling desires, there is no dearth.   Associated I am with the consortium of the divine.   My green mother knows I complete the riverine.   The albumin of oyster shells, the scarlet of greenery,   Yes, I also reprimand the washer men and upset the canary.   I am the pride of the farmer, the bios of agriculture.   All rely on me, silviculture, sericulture and floriculture.   Dogma, creed rolls out of helpless visages, I am pained.   Calcite, asbestos, concrete, don’t let me percolate and be drained.   It’s unfortunate my family is depleting, fading.   I am countered by commercialization, shining and scintillating.   I am called the scion of the earthly nebulae   Yet voiceless, dumb I am till this fine day.   Yes,...