in the image of God

I rode with Gia
  on the wind.

I saw the blighted earth,
  raw wounds, blackened ground, dead lakes.

And as I gazed, Gia could no more hold her fury.

Her scream turned to a roar, so loud that life stood still.
  Total, utter silence.
  The wind dared not blow.
  The rivers stopped running.
  Even the leaves upon the trees broke their dance.

In her beauty and majesty,
  light dancing off her countenance,
  Gia wept bitter tears for her children.

Children once so full of promise;
  now little more than whirling dervishes of greed and gluttony,
   spinning, spinning, spinning out of control,
  desecrating the sacred and leaving only destruction and destitution.

What happened to this creature made ‘in the image of God’?

How did we turn such a blind eye to the gift of life given us?

Can we, will we, dare we pull the veil and see
  the preciousness of this gift, life,
  and take the actions necessary to honor it?

Or will we
Just
Let
It
Pass?