We men live on a
volcano,
Proud of our
achievements,
arrogant and puffed up
like a peacock.
We invent magnificent
machines, without which we can no longer
live:
beneficial are the
machines of medicine,
but no longer
desirable are the machines of comfort,
machines which think
for us, machines for our luxury,
machines for industry
and machines for killing.
And the energy, which
these machines use, we seize without mercy
from a world whose
wounds are no longer curable. But we look
away.
We look away, when the
machine becomes a monster that is no longer controllable,
with all the
catastrophic consequences.
We dance, without
realizing that the wall,
which we have built up
around us to preserve our affluence,
cannot protect us any
longer.
We dance, without
noticing that our 'nest' made from cement
cannot be supported by
the tree any longer
because its top has
been broken and its roots are burning.
We dance, without
noticing that our affluence already threatens to fall
apart.
We do not want to
notice it.
We want only this at
all costs:
more of everything,
everything still
better, everything still more luxurious,
everything still
bigger, still faster, still more effective,
in spite of all the
warnings by a raped Nature.
We do not want to
renounce anything, and we do not want to see
that
already very soon a
renounciation will be horribly forced upon the whole
humanity,
with greater and
greater dangers.
The volcano is
working.
We keep on
dancing.
How much
longer?
