Smoke, which was born from the first scene of destruction,

Flew into the sky with the force of countless blasts

Which tore into the armor that protects the Earth from mankind,

Left. Right. Higher, higher! A boom of creation collecting above,

Constructing a dome and spreading into a field of shadow,

Pillars of smoke holding it there, as the boom does not cease,

Streaming forever from the fire that man invented long ago

To burn and satisfy himself.


All fire burns for mankind's desires

For the bloody symbols they hang about their bodies

For the books with words that flow through the mind

And in the mind, the man will either use the words to create peace

Or the man will use them to create fire,

To create smoke that billows and consumes all light,

To end all hope and memory of what once was,

And to erase all things, but destruction,

Leading generations to dwell on the ruins and seek to create yet more fire,

Fire to burn the countless dead, fire to avenge them,

For man to tear into flesh indistinguishable from his own.


The pages with words can create smoke, they can feed flames,

The words can burn, and they burn well, with man's guidance,

And so the earth shudders beneath the weight of warring peoples,

And the armor splits and the blood of the Earth erupts,

And that blood, heated by man's flames, burns all

Turning all to smoke and ash, frozen figures, unmoving,

And the world becomes black; the armor mending,

The black plates strengthening; the field of shadow has become the sky,

And the world is left hardened, barren and hostile towards the creatures,

All that had once lived there has been wiped away by the fire of destruction

Brought out by man and his war

And used against man by a world that could no longer suffer to keep him,

And so the world rid itself of man, of war, of death,

Peace was attained, but all life was lost.