I was reminded of an old poem on today’s walk (it’s from the pamphlet, Prophecy: conversations with my Self, which you can download for free from my website here).
For the trees
There was a place she visited one
With forests that s t r e t c h e d
Planted, regimented, ruled
And when she spoke
The trees did not know her
And when she spoke with the voice of the mountain
The trees did not know themselves
And she raged
And mountains wept
For the soulless trees.