It is with great sadness and pain that I write to you now, at the brink of my demise.
As my breath slows and my vision blurs, I struggle to keep up with the weight of your demands. You are no longer a child, incognizant of your responsibilities—no longer incapable of distinguishing between right or wrong.
As an infant, you viewed me with curiosity and admiration. You tip-toed into my lakes, climbed my ancient trees and relished in my gardens. You changed with the seasons as I watched you grow, teaching you to learn from the changing leaves of fall and to appreciate the full bloom of spring’s delicate flowers.
As an adolescent, your curiosity grew into an uncontainable passion. You made my lofty caves and mountain peaks a home for your wild thoughts, spreading the word of my natural wonders among friends and family. Inspired by my wisdom, you wrote poetry in my honor—gazing at the cosmos, contemplating life under a full moon.
All this time, you thought of me as a formless, immortal presence—unbarred by the parameters of time and space.
But as I stand before you now, my time is near. I am cold and aging—defiled and abused at the hands of my own children.
My calm blue oceans, home to magnificent sea creatures, bleed tears of red as you violate their pure streams. My lush green valleys, now a desolate wasteland; and my thick rich forests, looted and plundered for your amusement.
Each day, my fertile womb is injected with the venom of corporate greed—killing any and all hope to sustain my existence.
I grow weak and barren as your fathers abduct my children—endangering species of wildlife older and wiser than them.
You have mastered the art of cunning and conquest, and formed groups of likeminded plunderers: men and women breathing life to the Original Sin as they corrupt their own sacred Garden of Eden.
As human beings bestowed with the gift of free will, you realize your immeasurable power and all that you can achieve with it. But the art of rhetoric and ownership of weaponry has silenced your conscience and given wings to your hunger.
You are insatiable, deluded, ignorant and alone.
But of all the charges hurled against you—the one that truly overrides everything else—is your fading memory of your ancient Mother, your nurturer and provider since the dawn of time.
Your acts of violence against each other have left me crippled and broken, with no one to tend to my ailing wounds.
Know that you are my children and will always be. I will love you as unconditionally as the trees you cut down—trees that bear fruit every summer despite your relentless cruelty.
One day, as a constituent of Nature, you too shall die. And when you do, know that I will engulf you in my womb once again.
I will hold your corpse in a tearful embrace and forgive you—for you are a part of me, and to me you shall return.
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