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The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

I am a ravaging glutton,
In perfect equilibrium,
With the great wide open,
Her highness, the limitless atmosphere,
Her ally in the zeniths of battle,
Against the greenhouse dragons that rage fire,
From the deepest of gorges;
To resurrect the temperatures,
To unforeseen heights, scales that rock towards,
The heavens as the greenhouse monsters,
Raze the harmonious islanders,
Maldivians, Kiribatians even the Chagos islanders,
As they scamper to mounds or hillocks;
Or seek greener pastures,
In the emerald coatings of Botany Bay;
Yet I exist, the nemesis of greenhouse monsters,
Gobbling up tides of gigantic vapors,
Through my stromata, my sensuous lips,
That scan the vast opens for a passionate lock,
To scavenge cowardly dragons that exhale fire;
To appease my voracious appetite,
For a fixation in to harmonious sugars;
To drive the global engine of life;
For I am a symbol of hope in a belligerent world,
Taming the gaseous greenhouse dragons;
I am the supple breasts of mother earth,
Feeding in the masses of innocence;
I am hand that rocks the cradle of civilization,
In its revolving infancy in the continuum of time;
For I am simply a genetically engineered C4 rice plant,
Basking in Ra's glory in the year 2050.

poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
Added by Poetry Lover
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