I open my eyes and I see a dying Earth. Its inhabitants too distracted by bright lights and loud noises to save the soil far below the pavement under their feet. The Earth is mature. The Earth is wise. She does not plead for attention like an infant, but rather continuously sets an example of giving without expecting anything in return. But soon, sooner than we think, she will have nothing left to give. Trees will not be there to rustle in the wind. Streams will not lull us to sleep outside our windows. That is not the Earth I want to love in.We awe at tall buildings and larger screens. We praise anyone and anything that nourishes our senses instead of our souls. I want an Earth full of wonder and mystery. So, do I close my eyes again and enjoy the conveniences of the modern age? Or do I keep them open and care about my home?
I open my eyes and see a crying Earth. Its inhabitants are selfish and unappreciative when she has given us all we have and has suffered for her kindness. The Earth is hurt. The Earth is fed up. She is being used but she has grown sick of it and is starting to retaliate. Soon, much sooner than we can hope to imagine, she will shake us off like the mere fleas we are to her and start anew without us. I do not want to be that burden, that flea. We preach ergonomics yet contradict our pseudo-will; no one stands for it. One; us as a unified whole. We are too deep in the abyss of worldly pleasures to comprehend the wrath that awaits us; too superficial to understand the proposed concept of our being here and of our eradication. So I close my eyes in attempts to drown out the screams of our destined fates. I open them and witness a world that I feel is sucking me into its self-destructive nature.