We look for life on distant Mars, While here on Earth we bear the scars The skies grow dim, the oceans rise, Yet still we seek the farthest skies.
We send our dreams to planets new, Chasing stars in endless blue. But what of trees and fields we sow, Of streams that once did gently flow?
We turn our gaze to outer space, While here our world falls out of grace. Can we not heal what’s in our hand, Before we search another land?
For Earth, our home, still calls our name, Its pulse, its breath, its steady flame. To care for what we have below— Is this not where our love should grow?
