Scrying the future in fetid black water
the smell of humanity is there
abominations to behold and puzzle over
for they are the works of their breed
the blackness is the color of their deeds
they shall cry in vain when they learn
what they had done to themselves
to their future, to their world
the blue djin has been released
from its prison, to seek its vengence
and nothing can make it go away,
nothing can be made right again,
and there is nowhere to hide.
Scrying the future in a stagnant pool,
the future is what it is,
for it is written, so shall it be.