The planet breathes the ashes of indifference.
It is not herself for which Gaia weeps,
but for the collateral casualties caught in the flames.
What voice had they as the world began to burn?
Ignited by the greed of the never-enoughs,
whose gods behold the destruction and laugh.
What can figments and phantasms do, anyway?
The pious wring their hands, or would,
if they dared to abandon their phones.
To their dismay and delight, End-Days will be Instagram’d.