It Ruins the Poetry
First, rooted, the stately palm
Stretches towards the sun
Then, timid, in the chlorophyll calm
The little mice start to run
Next, this Eden of plant and small creature
Is infiltrated by The Stronger, who prey on the Weaker,
And finally, and righteously, and strongest of all
Comes Man.
But observation ruins the poetry
Vulcan does not place layers of green carpet for humanity
No! Ash and ruin bring first predators
And, too, forgotten scavengers
Who form their own strange ecosystem in the grey
Only then come plants and gentle herbivores
And who is there to deny this is the righteous way?
Not Man.