The Climate, Beyond

“The void darkens everything,” The persistent grey clouds show no hint of clearing out, and never have, for the last seven years. “Truth be told, I’m dead to the real world. The concrete jungle succeeds in its conquest to disturb, damage, and destroy the natural balance.”

One in sixty-two sectors display only thirteen per cent of natural world beauty. The rest dissolves in a slumber of grey, visibility down to a few hundred metres. The planet is beyond saving now, so say most activists, blaming every government and corporate not proactively involved towards preservation.

Outside, smoke brushes against the window, desperate to get in. Everything inside the room appears phased out and shattered, molecule by molecule. And yet, they appear as concrete objects.

Doubt

“We are, without doubt, a black spot on this planet. We are responsible for what we’ve done. We cannot go back in time to repair the damage we’ve done so far.”

A crowd of people surrounded the young woman who gave the speech on a stage. She was in her late 20s, almost as if she had bloomed out from a university degree with great success. Sara was a true inspiration for everyone, leading her way to provide justice towards climate crisis. Most people attending today’s speech had followed Sara ever since she started silent protests towards climate justice.

“Why do we suffer from what others have done before us? Aren’t they worthy of our blame on them? And yet, we lie here on the brink of an irreversible point where out climate shall never turn its tide again. Our planet’s mercy was laid in front of us long ago while we waged war amongst ourselves. And we never thought of the future consequences. Why is it we survive all of these threats? And most of all, why is it that when it comes to natural disasters, we start blaming the planet, or even some of the gods to have performed something to make us realize what we’ve done to put ourselves in the first place?”

Day Four

It’s day four. The living legends have crumbled to ash and dust. Not a soul lives around. Not a day goes by.

I’m all alone…
… And it’s already day four.

Nature is all crushed and withered, and so are the clear blue skies that seemingly crack out lightning and thunder all day. Even the foggy dark nights shower us with ashes that erupt from volcanoes across other continents. Every morning, the ground cracks from rapid temperature changes, a sudden drift into the oncoming heat of sunlight. These are our final days, the days we always predicted would come eventually.