The woods, are lovely dark and deep


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though:
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To Stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

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Muse of nature disappearing before our eyes,
Replaced by cement and carbon for fast gain.

Try to enjoy that Porsche ride without any trees.
It will come back on itself, Man is a big fool.
God help our Poor Children.

The Amercian Indians believe Spirit will " reset by default" the Earth's Surface by turning it over on itself and burying all the concrete and re bar. Hence, we would have to start over and try to do it again, maybe without greed this time! This could be a metaphor for allot of potential cataclysmic happenings. If Crow Dog is wrong God Spirit help us All!

The New Holocaust is the Black Tar Earth we will leave our children to choke and die on. Al Gore is a thick, preppy nerd, but " An Inconvenient Truth" is on the point. And he has balls to come out and say it!

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