By Zara Oong
Nothing more blissful than the magical touch on my hand
The tenderness and tranquillity - lovingly vast,
The sanctuary of my sacred land,
The ocean and I - one and the same at last.
Nothing more beautiful than the shimmering touch of my hand
Flowing over a blanket of coloured coral,
The fighting rainbow over the glimmering wonderland
Swept up in a lovers quarrel
Nothing more beautiful than the giving touch of my hand,
The endless stream of laughter and fun.
But, the humans are creating a wasteland,
With the temperatures rising, the enemy is now the sun.
Nothing more beautiful than the tainted touch of my hand
Contaminated by the life-bearing fluid of death.
The overflowing ecosystems, a holy land,
Suffocating in mortality, where is their breath?
Nothing more beautiful than the pristine touch on my hand,
As the memories embrace my unoccupied mind,
But the bliss soon turns to sorrow, as memories of ruined land
Surface and memories of pollution and beauty become intertwined