The wood of our creation

In the indiscernible woods, as you venture ahead
At the stroke of midnight, or apparently so

You stumble over mounds of logs with holes
Or may be they are femurs of long gone souls

You shudder because this isn't the beautiful woods
About which you read in your history books

You walk ahead but you go straight down
Through a rodent's tunnel underground

Oh! wait a minute, hold your breath
Here lay villagers, napalmed to death

You scamper back all muddy and brown
Scared of the history, that you just found

Above ground its just a beautiful night
You head south where there is a little light.

A step or two and there are people running at you
They call themselves tigers, and they hack and hew

This son et lumiere isnt just the right kind
So you head north , to divert your mind

You wonder what's wrong in your travel plan
This forest isn't as green as shown in your map

You are not sure where you are anymore
This is your african safari, but you missed the Ugandan lore

This was your journ of south-east-asia
Yet you didnt know whats on in Cambodia

You planned to hunt tigers in that small island
Only to find there was none left behind

You thought that smell came from a geyser nearby
But this is vietnam .. you smell napalm when she sighs

Enough of the forest you have seen for the day
Leave alone the desert .. she has plenty to say

As you traverse back, you realize this isnt night
We have messed up the skies as we have done with the land

You want to go back .. to your history book
And scream at her as she innocently looks

My friend, this is the wood of our creation
a testimony to man's regression