EYE OF THE STORM
A storm is barreling towards the mainland. What was once a sprawling mangrove and forest ecosystem has been pillaged and replaced by the concrete jungle. The inhabitants of this concrete jungle cower in fear as the storm builds up in speed and intensity. The storm doesn’t care; it’s out for retribution. To reclaim what was taken. The reaper shall cometh.
Was the beginning of the summer solstice; in a busy coastal town,
The beginning of the summers catch and movement of the fishermen boats,
The arrival of ships to the ports along the essential trade routes,
When throngs of tourists arrive to marvel at the pristine shores and endless beaches,
A time of celebration for the townsfolk,
It’s been this way millennia or so.
On this fateful day however; the winds bring with them a tiding of monumental proportions,
A darkening of the horizon, blanketing of the sun like a biblical warning of plague,
A change in the currents that ebb and flow with increasing ferocity,
The winds bring with them the warning of something sinister indeed,
For this fateful day signals the end of all that is known,
For the storm is cometh.
The storm has been building, biding its time,
It feels no hurry as it gathers its strength to unimaginable feats,
Now the time has come to claim that which it seeks,
There is no remorse for the destruction to be unleashed,
For it was written in the stars,
The arrival of the reaper is to pass.
There is a sense of impending doom,
As fear grips this once bustling town,
The uncertainty of destruction breeds widespread panic,
There is a rush to save that which can be saved,
While abandoning that which shall be lost,
For in all its fearsome glory, the storm is cometh.
The storm feels no remorse,
For this destruction was forthcoming,
Can humanity not see?
The catalyst for its destruction started with thee?
In the attempt to reach for the stars,
Humanity has forsaken that which was inherited.
The sprawling mangroves,
Filled with resources a plenty and breathtaking beauty of creation.
Has been dismantled and felled,
For humanity to create its own concrete nation,
The lush land of green filled with all wondrous spectacles of life,
Has been replaced by murky greys and structures filled with struggle and strife
The endless expanse of the ocean, in all its power and glory,
With resources to sustain life a plenty,
Has become but a collection of waste showing humanity’s apathy;
The sky blue in all its endless lustre,
With the tools that enabled life to thrive and survive,
Is now a myriad of chemicals and concoctions that suffocates existence itself.
For how can they not see?
That a balance is needed to ensure survival of thee?
How can they exploit and plunder,
And not feel the ground underneath them ripped asunder,
The time for reaping is upon them,
For the storm, is cometh.
In the final hour of doom and gloom, the town awaits its fate,
As the storm approaches across the now blackened sky,
The winds bring with them the verdict of destruction,
A payment is needed for that which was taken,
For once the axe swung and the first tree fell,
The fate of humanity was there unto sealed.
It is now the hour of the reaping,
The storm gathers with intensity,
It feels no remorse, for the judgment has passed.
And as it crashes through with power and certainty,
Humanity faces the consequences of greed and vanity
In the hour of the reaping the final thought humanity feels,
The storm has, indeed, come to thee.
