8/25/2025
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
The Earth weeps, not with rain, but with a silent grief. She watches from the highest mountain, her body now a canvas of wounds. The rivers she sang to sleep are choked, their voices hoarse with poison. Her forests, once a thick green cloak, are thinned to skeletal threads, the songs of her creatures silenced. The sky, once a blue, limitless promise, is now a grey and gasping breath. She sees her children, the ones she shaped from clay and starlight, so busy with their perfect lines and metal boxes, that they no longer see the blood that stains her gentle hands. And what can she do, but watch as they tear at her skin, and wonder at the heart, that learned to love, and then to kill.
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