In Agony, She Screams.
I sit.
I’ve been sitting for a long time. Sitting here, wondering whether or not the world will still turn once we have all departed. When the world stops being fit for human population, will she still be the same? Or will she overtake our progress and technologies? Rise up and consume the gaudy embellishments we’ve scattered about.
Or will she cease her existence, too tired to struggle on. Explode in a mass of fire and light, or implode in a fit of darkness? However she ends her time, floating in this mass of stars and rock, she’ll find her peace. For anything is better than this agony we inflict.
This world, our plaything. We’ve been placed here, by whose will we might never know. And we molded and shaped this world to suit us.
She screams. Agony and pain. We cut her open and drilled down, desperate for things we’ve little right to. Consumed her very soul, it seems. We use whatever we desire, use it and throw it away, little pebbles of trash that form this mountain of insanity.
Do we truly deserve this glorious world? With its autumn leaves and summer rains, blanketing snows and fields awash with color? Forests fading, fields dying. She is old, far older than we can comprehend, and she is tired. So achingly tired and she knows her time is ending. It seems she has her plan, slow though it may seems.
She has seen our greed and judged us unworthy. These items we desire are precious and priceless. Once consumed forever gone. The trees spend ages living, only to be felled. For what, things to make our life easier? “Our” precious metals seem to gleam, even tarnished with age, until unknowingly, they are returned to her. Taken back within her bosom and cherished, loved.
Now, irony it seems has a way of finding the most peculiar situations. Whether we were placed her by some omniscient being or formed by her loving hands, she is still our mother. She is the air we breathe and the food we eat. Our home and burial ground. Even we return to her. Fall down upon the earth and enrich it, giving more in our death than ever in our lives. Now why would we seek to destroy our entire world?
Our ignorance and foolishness is overwhelming.
I’ve been sitting for a long time. Sitting here, wondering whether or not the world will still turn once we have all departed. When the world stops being fit for human population, will she still be the same? Or will she overtake our progress and technologies? Rise up and consume the gaudy embellishments we’ve scattered about.
Or will she cease her existence, too tired to struggle on. Explode in a mass of fire and light, or implode in a fit of darkness? However she ends her time, floating in this mass of stars and rock, she’ll find her peace. For anything is better than this agony we inflict.
This world, our plaything. We’ve been placed here, by whose will we might never know. And we molded and shaped this world to suit us.
She screams. Agony and pain. We cut her open and drilled down, desperate for things we’ve little right to. Consumed her very soul, it seems. We use whatever we desire, use it and throw it away, little pebbles of trash that form this mountain of insanity.
Do we truly deserve this glorious world? With its autumn leaves and summer rains, blanketing snows and fields awash with color? Forests fading, fields dying. She is old, far older than we can comprehend, and she is tired. So achingly tired and she knows her time is ending. It seems she has her plan, slow though it may seems.
She has seen our greed and judged us unworthy. These items we desire are precious and priceless. Once consumed forever gone. The trees spend ages living, only to be felled. For what, things to make our life easier? “Our” precious metals seem to gleam, even tarnished with age, until unknowingly, they are returned to her. Taken back within her bosom and cherished, loved.
Now, irony it seems has a way of finding the most peculiar situations. Whether we were placed her by some omniscient being or formed by her loving hands, she is still our mother. She is the air we breathe and the food we eat. Our home and burial ground. Even we return to her. Fall down upon the earth and enrich it, giving more in our death than ever in our lives. Now why would we seek to destroy our entire world?
Our ignorance and foolishness is overwhelming.