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Speakeasy #151: The World

Life had once been defined by linears and absolutes.
The passing of the seasons.
The migration of the beasts.
Safe water was plentiful.

For thousands of years our world was predictable.
Our lands were safe.
Food found everywhere.
Rivers, plains, mountains.

Now our world is our enemy.
Seasons are gone.
Most animals lost.
The seas poison.

We hide in our holes.
Safe from the winds.
Safe from the storm.
Safe from the world.

One day the world will heal.
The waters run clear.
The creatures return.
The seasons come again.

Til then we hide.
And wait.
And hope.
That humanity will last.

This is written as a work by an individual in the same story world as my entry for Speakeasy #147: The Storyteller. It might even be by the storyteller, but I think probably not.

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