With every Sky bitter with the acrid smoke of our exile,
every Mountain that sheltered us conquered and climbed,
When the Sea in which we lived rejects our bodies,
The Ocean shores littered with our jagged bones,
and Man’s disbelief full on us, what shall we do?
Take his dreams; he doesn’t want them and we will no longer share them.
Let him keep his toys, the ones which think for him, the ones which are the secret orders of his mind.
Take away his magic. All of it. Leave him with the neverending cacophony of grinding gears; even when his technologies run silent, the gears still hit the mind.
Take from him everything, do it before his every eyes, and he shall take up arms against our kinds, and he shall die, die, die.
Let him believe he is the hero.
Let him die like a fool.
At least he’ll die as he lived, only
he barely lived at all.
This land, this place, is your place.
We don’t like what you’ve done with it, mammal.
Leave it be. My breathe can incinerate, and it shall,
and what will be left will the blackened
and you can only save yourself by being
far too small
to be truly seen by the Universe.
And you will wish for more.
And you will look past what you think you know.
And then you will call on us, summon us, break our locks, speak our truths.
You will free us and you will be cleansed by our healing breath, and your ashes will spread up into the atmosphere, dampen the painful sun, cool the Earth to a temperature we prefer.
Call to us, mammal.
You yearn for Magic.
Here’s my novel, “There and NEVER, EVER BACK AGAIN“.