I am painfully disappointed.
For a brief moment in time Mankind worshipped me for my gifts — my landforms.
The mountains, and shorelines providing terrain for those to explore my soil.
I have lain forests, grasslands, woodlands, and wetlands to create many necessities for their overall survival.
My timber provides wood for explorers in need shelter.
My vines of natural fibres to weave into clothes for warmth
My zephyrs are a natural symphony for those who chooses to listen.
My dark night skies lit by what appears to be fireflies, a twinkling night.
My abundance of colour for the mornings, of the rising sun providing a fresh start for the regretful, and the warriors to rewrite their stories.
My never-ending blue-bird skies for the explorer to know, there’s always more around the corner
Mankind have always been restless and curious, so I gave them my seasons; that I may never look the same.
But the more I bloom, shed, adapt, and empty parts of myself, the more vacant I become.
My skin burns, I taught them fire, but they turned it against me.
I’m choking, my waters are tainted with black masses and manmade objects I never would have imagined possible. My children of Animals, hunted, skinned, and eaten, were Mankind that foolish enough to not think of them as companions?
I weep from the clouds, I have bawled on their city shorelines, why aren’t I heard?
If Mankind continues to violate my air, soils, forests, rivers, lakes, and biodiversity. I shall choose to die a slow death, ridding all of you with me.2