We may think we’re winning,
We may think we have the advantage,
We may think she can’t survive us
The hell we’ve inflicted on her,
But she can
She’s bound to it.
She has no choice but to fight back.
Desolation shall become her name
And she will survive us.
Did we believe it would be death by six billion cuts?
The depletion of precious ozone?
She will decide
Before we do.
She shall enact the test of survival, and we might fail it,
It’s in our blood.
We had a pretty good run though, didn’t we?
Thriving at her expense
Took more than we should have
But she will survive us.
One day we’ll be gone, to take our troubles elsewhere.
We didn’t even mean it.
We can say it was in our nature.
Eight billion cuts
We will accept the brutal limitations she hits us with.
Does she know
How bad we are for each other?
More than we do, at least,
But that’s not saying much.
She is waking as we speak.
Fire, rain, avalanche,
Heat, wind and smoke.
We underestimate what to expect,
That’s what they tell us any way.
Five billion? Three?
Farmland? Nuts and berries?
There’s much less of her than there used to be.
Not enough to go around.
I hope we can live together.
I don’t think there’s a choice.
Only time will tell what we have,
And what we have to lose.