The air was murky these days. Bitter, devoid of colour. Ignited forests lit up the night skies as scorched ashes barrelled with the wind. Plantation shrivels. Yearning, any fluid would suffice. Oceans vacant, lifeless. A nauseating colour, it reeks of oil. Untainted water is a glory that I can no longer afford. Why? The chipper peeps at dawn, where have they gone? Wildlife exists only to be devoured; though sustaining wildlife costs more than the pitiful plain can afford. As far as one can see, high-rises, roads. A voluminous array of unfinished construction projects, yet not a tree nor flower in sight. The thick gauze obstructs my ability to define figures beyond ten yards from me, but I can still see the forlorn world I call home as clearly as before. The streets are bustling with pedestrians, but the volume, subdued. The taps of feet, the humming of vehicles, yet the streets remain so fallen. Mankind racing to find money, racing to survive; a hopeless endeavour. We were consumed by greed, in a fracas to live, a gamble to provide, why? We are pickets as the glue weakens, and detain whilst the pieces fall apart so why, do you need all this money? What does it invoke? Will it bring the colour back to me? My beautiful sky, lustful harvests, sparkling oceans? Those who shared the memory of that gratifying world, where did they go? Why did they leave me in a place that is too far gone?
Pointless, senseless abstractions
We shall soon be reunited, no matter.
I can see a luminescence, it’s tranquillizing, it’s warm.
Did I only live in reminiscence of my past?
Would knowing have changed anything?
I endured, I watched it fall, the colour fade
Could I have done… anything?
Too frail, fragile? Too old?
I would do anything
Even so, I depart knowing I have done nothing
To this world plagued by people,
Reilaine Reas –
May 1920, 13:49 – April 2102, 23:41