A land before the sun sets. Filled with grey mists, remnants of dreams and sighs, lush like a neverending emerald forest. The sky is eternal, painted by the hands of a great unknown. It looks over the earth like a shield. There are so many things to shelter this pretty marble from. Everything else is so careless and unforgiving, but slowly…the earth is turning to red as blood falls like rain.
At the beginning, we were nothing but beautiful. Purity was unadulterated, and love was the essence of all things great and small. There were no storms but still rainbows bannered the bluest skies. Our trees were not dying, and we realised air to be the breath of life. We touched water like it was precious silver, and we saw stars for the shining wonders they truly were. Wherever we walked, flowers would grow and sunsets never faded. We were given everything, but somehow, we lost it along the way.
Like a bleeding heart before its death, we wander the streets of the world now, so impoverished and hopeless. What we once were, all thrown away.
And He looks through His celestial window, upon this broken and dying earth. Why do we always destroy perfection just because we are imperfect? Why are we always in need of healing and why do we always forget the good we are given? As He watches, an angel beholds the fighting and pervasive sin that is taking our planet. A tear falls, sweet as winter’s rain, into places that have been left behind.
There is a dying baby left in the streets, and the world just walks by. There is fighting, inside and out, the spilling of blood and hearts all over. It is a war which nobody wins because nobody loves. The window is getting misty from a gathering above the skies. The earth, hanging upon nothing, hangs by a thread…
A collision of souls, a breaking of minds. We are killing ourselves slowly as we put each other beneath us, stepping on humans to get further, higher. We want to reach the skies because what we have down below is not enough. Some are thinking of knocking down heaven’s door, or throwing a rock at God’s window so that maybe He will hear us for once.
The mayhem is growing, the conflict is far from ceasing. It is a tragedy. The heavens are getting heavier, and a flood is coming. He turns away in sorrow.
At the beginning, we were nothing but beautiful.
Maybe angels’ tears can wash away this pain
Maybe someone’s blood, will bring us back.
