Our sire from the heavens spoke and spat into oblivion.
His seed cultivated an egg that speedily mated in bed.
Abundant life in never ending cycles,
adamant Wives would spell disasters.
The lost children will forever search,
the sires beginnings could never be reached.
Mother earth remains and seldom complains.
Till the diggers broke lanes to her very veins.
Precious parts plundered in terrible squanders.
Her young had developed their mothers new habits.
Coughing and erupting in sores and destruction.
The more took by whoring kings and crooks.
Every infection had reactions to this attraction.
Can we survive?whilst our mother surely dies!