In the cradle of creation, a planet once so fair,
Earth, our mother, burdened by the weight we bear.
From the hands that shaped its destiny, a shadow falls,
A symphony of silence as nature's voice calls.
Once adorned in hues of green and blue,
Now tainted by the scars of what we do.
The hand that gave life now becomes the reaper,
As we sow the seeds of destruction, going deeper.
Oceans weep, their tears in waves do crash,
Mountains crumble, as our reckless actions clash.
The air, once pure, now whispers a plea,
As humanity dances towards its own decree.
Skies painted with hues of orange and red,
A canvas of regret for the blood we've shed.
Forests, once proud, stand as solemn witnesses,
To the demise of Eden, as darkness now bridges.
Concrete jungles rise, nature's symphony silenced,
As the hand that crafted beauty is now clenched.
Species vanish, their whispers fade away,
As the echo of extinction plays its mournful say.
Rivers polluted, their veins choked and dry,
The hand that once nurtured now makes them cry.
A legacy tarnished, the Earth sighs in despair,
As the hand of creation becomes the hand of doom's snare.
Yet, within this requiem, a flicker of hope,
A chance for redemption, a way to cope.
Let us mend the wounds, before it's too late,
And rewrite the tale of Earth's uncertain fate.
For in our hands, the power to revive,
The planet we call home, where all life thrives.
May the hand that shaped this world with care,
Now cradle it gently, and in love, repair.
