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For of all the eons,
And of all the seasons,
That she has seen and lived, endures does she without reason.

Towering giants of old,
Sweeping lands gripped in cold,
With intricate and innumerable secrets, she is bold.

Dark and boundless,
Stretched cold by her caress
With purpose other, does the heaven’s expanse impress.

In waters with undulant creations,
On ground with perfect imperfections,
She is bold and enduring, the careless crafter of suns.

Two legged and alien,
Not always have they been,
For a moment they have conquered, a moment more before they end.

With dancing and burning pain
They have crafted their main,
With which is ever changing, so too is their innocent bane.

For once had she been their lover,
Now they forsake for another,
For the cold malignant metal that is ever at war with their mother.

What kind kindling hands had she
When she brought them to be
And now they unwittingly murder her, ever so slowly.

For of all the eons
And of all the seasons
That she has seen and lived, endures does she without reason.

Against her own children
Who have not always been,
Who tirelessly seek to oppress, to imprison, to end.