There will be nothing left to destroy!

There will be no clay left for us to mould
No meadows to leisurely lie in
No flowers in the valley to pick
No trees to climb or swing from.

There will hardly be any rain to walk under
Or to quench our soul
There will be parched lands screaming for our blood
Such barrenness that our tears would fight to drench.

There will be no birds chirping merrily in the morning
Or another flight of feathers passing overhead at dusk
There will be no cuckoos calling
Or the bees pollinating
Or butterflies getting caught in our hair.

There will be no tigers to kill
No elephants left to tear out the tusks from
No snake skins to peel
No fur to rob off in bloody plundering.

There will be no sands left to walk our calm through
No forests to get awed by or get lost in
The mountains will crumble into oceans
The oceans will bulge with our waste

And then one day,
By a sharp stroke of brought-upon fate
We would kill our own kind
losing humanity forever to our demonic intervention in evolution
after destroying the preciousness around
after messing around irreversibly with divinity.

Picture courtesy - Google Images