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Description
The planet is dead.

I sit atop the mountain holding a lighter, a gas-mask and subtle little grin.

All I see for miles and miles is a combusting mixture of false society. The flesh of millions of men, concrete streets, steel buildings, and of course wood. The stock market and profits are the least of their worries now. The treasury? The banks? They're all ablaze.

It's like a giant bonfire that Karma has been waiting for since the first flag was flown and the first nation crafted. Pitiful men trying to play god with crowns and suits and uniforms. Your guns can't save you from your self inflicted revelations.

Every little inch of land man has soaked with slavery is being baptized by fire. When it rises like a phoenix from the ashes, the planet, all signs of these "great nations" will be nothing but ruins, encrusted and formed in heat. Trees and vines and moss will grow over them, and the children the new era will know of their failure. They will bask in the light the selfish opportunist was never blessed enough to know; the reincarnation of a world, a planet.

But tonight, the only light these penny pinchers and killers and tyrants will see will be the scorching of their eyes before everything they know goes black.

And to them, weep for your power, let loose your screams of anguish for your currency, and your tears of sorrow for your devilish dreams.

And all I can do is smile. Your reign is over. Tonight is society's execution, and you won't return for it's Resurrection.

The planet is dead.

Description
The planet is dead.

I sit atop the mountain holding a lighter, a gas-mask and subtle little grin.

All I see for miles and miles is a combusting mixture of false society. The flesh of millions of men, concrete streets, steel buildings, and of course wood. The stock market and profits are the least of their worries now. The treasury? The banks? They're all ablaze.

It's like a giant bonfire that Karma has been waiting for since the first flag was flown and the first nation crafted. Pitiful men trying to play god with crowns and suits and uniforms. Your guns can't save you from your self inflicted revelations.

Every little inch of land man has soaked with slavery is being baptized by fire. When it rises like a phoenix from the ashes, the planet, all signs of these "great nations" will be nothing but ruins, encrusted and formed in heat. Trees and vines and moss will grow over them, and the children the new era will know of their failure. They will bask in the light the selfish opportunist was never blessed enough to know; the reincarnation of a world, a planet.

But tonight, the only light these penny pinchers and killers and tyrants will see will be the scorching of their eyes before everything they know goes black.

And to them, weep for your power, let loose your screams of anguish for your currency, and your tears of sorrow for your devilish dreams.

And all I can do is smile. Your reign is over. Tonight is society's execution, and you won't return for it's Resurrection.

The planet is dead.