It pulses
with the steady flow of waterfalls, rivers and creeks,
"I am alive."

It cries
with the shrieks of cockatoos, parrots and eagles,
"I can feel pain."

It sparkles
with a million brilliant flowers,
"I am exuberant."

Its giant pillars draped in vines and bedecked with bromeliads touch the sky and say,
"I am ancient."

A golden leaf slowly floating down inside its green cathedral, whispers,
"... a holy place."

Its thousand harmonies of tropical song birds promise,
"I will enchant you."

But all of these whispers, pulses, cries and songs,
fall dead and silent,

In the terrible stillness after each tree
is ripped away from its roots.

Then there is only the wretched buzz of flies.