The creation of your world was of my doing,
You are here for my leisure and recreation.
Do not think that what you do will change the world
For I have molded the universe to fit my own needs.
Just one of many small balls of existence, just one.
I do not always see your progress or your faults.
There are times I see you at war with one another,
And times where I see a few trying to renew the world.
You world was created by me, but you are its guardians,
Over time you have failed, without heading the warnings.
I must tell you now, the time of rebirth is coming again,
And I doubt that I want to observe your future trials.
I have been contemplating crushing the tiny ball of your life,
Bringing to dust all that you were and would ever become.
Too much disappointment has weathered my tired soul,
So I must, with no sorrow, think of letting you all go.
Dust in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem