Pangaea! Pangaea!

I call to you.

What has become of your ancestral song?

Oh, mighty Pangaea,

Formed by the one Hand, to be the one land,

What caused the chasms and faults

That made you many?

Remember?

Go back to the millennia of your birth;

To the memory of your worth;

When Earth groaned in violent labor,

Spewing forth your Permian mass.

Your newborn cry echoed a simple beginning

For those who dwelled in your terrestrial charm.

You were one then.

Can you think back to the peaceful flow

Of your fertile, fruit-swept valleys?

When in harmony

The ancient sequoia lived

With the smallest of creatures.

Oh Pangaea,

Do you recall

How the greatest and the least dwelled in peace

All along your grassy shores;

Growing, thriving, giving life to the other,

And with names they were called

Sister and Brother?

But then, the dark waters came,

Trickling at first, hardly seen.

Not the trees, not the creatures,

Nor the sisters and brothers

Saw the sneaking intrusion,

The crafty delusion of schemes.

Schemes, Pangaea!

Lying, seducing schemes

That defamed your body,

And destroyed your very soul.

Undetected, through deception, the subtle divisions formed,

Wounding you with a mortal blow,

And as such, your Creator mourned

Because no more were you one.

Now, your power is lost in many parts,

As the feet in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream.

For part is of iron, and part is of clay,

And no true strength can be seen.

Can you see, Pangaea?

Do you not know?

Your oneness held the secret of your might.

As pieces alone on this twirling sphere,

You are mounds of clay that cannot adhere

To the screams of fear that shroud this globe.

For anger, bias, and hate

Have blinded your primordial view,

And your separate pieces, though part of the whole

Have forgotten you.

Throughout eternity, the Cry is heard,

 “Oh, my lost Pangaea!”

So, I mourn dear Pangaea

For the song you once sang,

When in the bowels of the earth your roots were young,

When still you were close to the single Hand

Of He who made you simple and grand.

My beautiful Pangaea,

Once unscarred and pure,

Why did you give in to the water’s edge?

Why, oh why, could you not endure?