We lived on a spheroidal spread of land and water,
all the biotics and abiotics together.
As mutual dependence was the order supreme
together flocked the birds of different feathers.
The wild beasts roared, the birds chirped merrily,
Man was for man, there were no rivers of blood,
Nature was at its neutral self, neither acidic nor basic
as the ice didn't melt and the oceans didn't flood.
We still live on the same spheroid,
but with all the perfect balances distorted.
Where reigns Hostility as the order supreme,
with the bonds of mutualism busted.
The shadow of extinction hangs over the wild,
the birds have started making untimely migrations,
Man is scripting his destiny with blood,
Nature is at its violent best, unleashing devastations.
Our fate will be decided at the tribunal of Nemesis,
for all the ills we have done to induce this decadence.
Time won't give us a second chance.
Let's turnaround now or be ready for repentance.
