When The World Manifests Its Death Poem by Rabi Anata

From the sky came a start,
And the land was made complete;
We were planted who-knows-where,
But it never occurred to us then.
We had no need for tools to work,
We'd just wander through the fields
With abiding happiness.
In the midst of our protected path
There was a home that felt, sometimes, too safe,
And in a place, our thrill was for everything;
It was boundless in those days.

We weren't very far off from forever,
But in time, we lost our reach.
And when we blank, we were gone
From where everything is calm
To where things are bent.
And the air was fresh for our lungs to breathe,
But it seemed suffocating
Like we wasted space,
Or like the ground had caved in from around us.
With a heavy sigh from above (in the skies) ,
The handsome fields fell dead, and disappeared at once.
Our days were white and blue,
And green and red and grey
Like one ever changing feeling.

From the passing times came another blooming heart
With a body that caused the world pain.
The years gone by, we multiplied,
And woke with wickedness.
Our every trying action was an open door to failure,
So we tried a way we understood
And wallowed in our madness.
The skies had spoke, and we wouldn't listen to them
When they'd always made the most sense out of us.
Some tried to smother what was lovely,
And ignored what held their seams together,
And fell apart incessantly.

We advanced pass time all the while
Watching our ever flowing disaster, gloomily.
After so and so would happen; benumbed, our laughter was aimless.
We asked 'why? ' when we reaped our own distress,
As if something were accountable for our own unhappiness.
Like a disease, it spread and hit us with a BANG;
Before we even noticed we were where we'd never hope to have been.
It was us who then chose foolhardily,
And turned the best into something to be despised,
So it's we who should take the blame
When the world manifests its death.