Is it true?  Is the green becoming gray? Why is money preferred instead of life?

I open the window.

The chimney is
expelling my past.

I watch my old green
dissolve into gray. 

Smoke enters my room.

I can't see my face.
The life I am became gray.

"Close the window,
ignore the past,"
Those rich old cigars said. 

I can't .
It is not the past...
It is the evergreen present
we can't live without. 

Please, open your window,
so you can see the Earth
begging you:
Stop smoking gold!
So you can clean your lungs
by breathing the love
your false sparkles cannot buy.