| Like a wounded soldier in the
throws of a battle, crying to be carried home to die. Weak and torn enough of the
war has been worn on the shoulders that the warrior can bear no more. From the
heavens and from the bowels of this earth there is a rupture and vomiting from all the
corruption. It can stand no more, the planet rebels. The heavens let down the
rain of comets that bore into the soul of the earth. From within the heated core
erupts and spills out burning and cleansing all in the path of the lava that purges the
surface. Death and dying all around. Bleak and barren like it was at its creation. No sign of life, no song of a bird, no flower grows. Gone from all this planet all signs of mankind and the war is finally ended. The guns are no more, the hatred has died and the bodies are cold and decaying. What was this all for will we ever know? Will anyone ever know? A lost world that someone might call a civilization, but there was nothing civil about it. It was hard and cruel. Children died for lack of food and people hoarded their wealth while others died in cardboard boxes on the street. Blindly people went on about their lives, only when a cruelty of life struck close did they see with compassion that was always so very near affecting others. In the silence of the aftermath the winds will blow and a cold will fill the air, turning the heat to ice. None will feel the bitter bluster as it rakes it claws of ice into the soils taking the last of any life that might have survived this oracle foretold in every tongue in every sect and belief. The end was seen coming and not enough cared to halt its progress. How long will this body of land and water orbit in its emptiness? Will any life ever come to be again in this immense grave of mankind? Perhaps if from the ashes life springs again it will be only the things in life that do not harm. Man may have looked upon them as only pleasant visions but maybe they are the only things that deserve to fill the earth again. Cheryl C. Helynck 2000
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