Antartica Is Burning Poem by Gianni Pansensoy

An invisible bladed wind
cut through the sun,
slices sharp till it bleeds
purple rain fire of blood,
dripping on the flesh of
Pegasus died in thirst,
hollowed blackened bones curved
on dried antartic land,
melting and seeping through
the burning polar sand.

A post nuclear child with
a stick, arrow and corn seeds,
wanders on a dead lake,
from barren red mountains to
the walls of polar cliffs,
searches for a fertile soil,
ends up digging for fossilized
snow and water,
along with other intelligent beings,
whose intelligence destroyed the
very reason of their existence: EARTH,
still can't find what they are
digging for,
but to wait and wait till their
throats dry up,
while the smog engulfs,
it's a holy chant for their graves.