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.

Bloodand dust

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.