, ,

As nature rages, they thumb through the pages
For a prophecy written in stone
But nature engages, as she has through the ages
In unforeseen rants of her own.

It comforts the soul, and enforces their goal
To portray it as something divine
As the century grows old, the truth will unfold
And me thinks in the end we will find

The destruction of us will be not by command
But the result of our own misguided hand.