Burning; air tinged with thick dark smoke; all hope lost, buried in ashes. Singed skin; screams dancing in the roar of the furnace. Intense desire for a savior, but we created this world, we gave birth to this destruction. This devastation is our child, but we are repulsed; though our disgust only fuels the child’s defiance.
Relentlessly we beat her to her core; like any wild child, she rebelled. We are a jealous race, a cruel race, greedy and unjust; our born child set us aflame. We are to blame, we are all of fault; beg your god’s sweet name, he can no longer hear, he has turned his back in shame, in fear of what he will see. All along I knew we were wrong, but like others I was afraid to speak, afraid of being offensive, afraid of being weak. If only I could stand, but I feel small in this alien land, and anxiety courses through me; I close my eyes to block helpless visions of the bodies burning. My love, oh my love; gripping the scared ground of my precious earth.
Would my chance of grace come if I fling my tortured body off a cliff? If I surrender to the flames, would it end the pain before it begins? Or do I wait; they say, in whispers before they fade away into a heated nothingness, that that there is to be a rain, a great rain to cleanse the dying soil and our tainted souls.

I stand tall among the hazy field of corpses, there is ancient power rushing through my veins, through my very being. Though, I know not how to channel it. I see what our child has done, the child we were once so proud of, the bright-eyed daughter we named society. The question remains imprinted in my mind; it’s no longer shall I or shall I go; but now, do I have the strength to hold back the waters…or do I have the strength to let them go, to let them flow?