The forest birds caw and the monkeys climb through the

overgrown trees. The aroma of flowers is sweetly

overwhelming. Bees buzz and rodents scamper across the

ground. You can't see them, but they are there, beneath the

thick underbrush. All is good, all is at peace in the fury

of nature.

A storm is coming. God's wrath is felt. The forest

burns and a new challenge begins. The ashes of the forest

turn to fields where antelope spring from waterhole to

waterhole. Lions stalk their prey and the breeze blows the

tall grass.

A new danger lurks, its body frail, its teeth weak, and

it is slow, slow as honey dripping from the hive. This

weak, frail, slow creature is deceiving, however, for it has

power, the power to mold the world, the potential to mold

the heavens

As I stand before my creator, I imagine what that time

and place must have been like, and I know, that world would

still be here if it were not for us. Would that be better?

I don't know.