Walking in Tamia

(A walk in the tranquil and refreshing environment of Tamia brings a joy and peace rarely experienced elsewhere. A place that was more dominated by nature itself rather than by those who come to enjoy it, has remained unsullied, unpolluted for a long time. Regrettably the invasion of this sea of serenity by the insensitive and obstreperous hordes of visitors and the increasing dominance of rank commercialism is rapidly changing the landscape.

A recent visit to Tamia, a place loved for peace, tranquility, and solace, left me deeply disturbed)

In Tamia's tender embrace, a celestial expanse unfurls, 
Where earthly grandeur pirouettes and whirls, 
Nature's unblemished essence in every breath, 
A triumphant symphony, overwhelming even death.

Along its meandering paths, I wander and roam,
 Rare ecstasy permeates, making my heart its home, 
So proximate to nature's resplendent design, 
A sacred waltz, a rhapsody divine.

Yet within this enchantment, a dissonant sight, 
Plastic taints the trail's allure, clouding the light, 
Like flaws upon a maiden's countenance fair, 
Tainting Tamia's sacred air.

And the once-pristine breeze, pure and fair, 
Now carries whispers of poison, an ugly affair, 
Casting a shadow upon your visage so sweet, 
Robbing your splendour, replacing joy with defeat.

I observe and ponder the invasive domains, 
The indifferent masses, the insatiable gains, 
Mercenaries of progress, conscience cast aside, 
Plundering tranquillity with insatiable pride.

Oh, when shall humanity awaken and see, 
Beyond transient pleasures, a destiny to decree, 
Transcending comfort's cocoon, in earnest quest, 
For lands where the heart's legacy shall rest?

When will they pause to admire trees' ballet, 
Grasses where butterflies waltz and sway, 
Life's tapestry woven in delicate thread, 
A unity of existence, where all souls are wed?

Gaze upon progeny, untamed and pure, 
In their eyes, the plea of futures obscure, 
For an unsullied Earth, a heritage bestowed, 
A treasure from past, entrusted, aglow.

What verdict shall history render and carve, 
For this epoch of takers, consuming without reserve? 
A generation myopic, self-serving in gaze, 
Trading morrows for fleeting pleasures ablaze.

Let's awaken from stupor, shed ignorance's shroud, 
Guardians of the land, hearts beating loud, 
With hands that nurture, and eyes that perceive, 
Tamia retains its innocence, A hope in faith we conceive.

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