We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. 
~Native American Proverb

We cannot command Nature except by obeying her. 

~Francis Bacon

This moon is entirely for me.
She can see all my splendors
when I gaze at her and wear my wings.
I unroll my feathers  and my everything sings
as Mercury defies Mars
to marry Lilith and the stars.

This lilly is my majesty.
Petals containing the infinite.
Life blossoms and many can't see
where lies truth and beauty.
The simple things hold mysteries
consecrated before man could understand
that my lady will never be under his command.

This water is my sanctuary.
A miracle, a wonder standing
a moment in my memory.
It shall live in me,
cleasing my tomorrow and my today,
prevailing against my small private torment
when oceans and rivers lament
and nothing I can do or say.

These hills, these trees, this planet:
they all belong to me.
I inherited them when my heart yearned
for stones, winds and my soul was free.
An enchanted song fell through the air
and the whole universe was tattooed in a verse.

She was everywhere, healing the world,
breastfeeding her creatures, kissing flowers,
giving birth to paradise and peace again,
speaking of love:
this love I feel and can't explain.

Oh Mother!
Show them your beloved face,
your power and grace.
Oh Mother!
Forgive them
They don't know what they are doing.
They still don't know what they are doing.
They forgot the light and the shadow
and all that lies in between.
Help them to remember and believe in
what they have already seen.

Karla Bardanza

Embroidering my fate with velvet and some moonlight,

I hunt stars across the sea as the sun waves me goodbye.

Little by little I see perfection awakening my sleepy soul,

sewing dreams and beauty together, hemming my sigh.

As I wear life, I trace patterns of my future onto papers,

exploring new possibilities, recreating again who I am.

I know I have my own unique shape, I know I am singular.

Whenever I am in doubt, I remember I have to be a dame.

And a dame always knows when she is supposed to leave.

She withdraws in order to weave the voile threads again.

Quietly she waits for a starry night, she redefines her plans,

she stitches new horizons as she contemplates the rain.

When the cruel tempest is over, it is high time to store thread

and to cover buttons and snaps adding elegance to my sweet art.

So I construct a silk taffeta lotus flower and I embellish projects

as I combine delightful bright colors with my life and poetic heart.

Karla Bardanza