Before you read this, picture a burning rainforest, or a barren land filled with smoking stumps. Apolluted river perhaps, or a smoke ridden sky. Picture a limp tiger pelt, stretched out on a mat on a streetside. Picture a burning bonfire of ivory. Picture a dead rhino lying still on the savanna, intact save for a missing horn. Picture an empty forest.
That is the definition of despair.
The ash of the world
Fire devours with endless hunger
No burning fire,
But the fire of Man.
Emerald green subsides to a rocky grey
And all the colours that once were
Fade into darkness.
Sapphire blues of sky and water;
They will both be poisoned
Black and purple with choking fog.
The hand of despair will silence the calls
The gentle murmurs of the river
The icy reaches of the wind
The voice of Nature.
Man will stand and watch the fate of the Earth
And finally, he will know what he has done
He will suffer remorse and regret
But it is too late.
The world is dying,
And there is no cure.
All things come to pass
And retreat into a forgotten past
Beauty and purity will fade.