A damp, charcoal street with newspaper scraps clutching the curbside.
The angelic blossoms of the pear trees have been smothered with grocery bags.
Their handles, wrapped around the ends of decaying, and frail branches, as they whip like tethered ghosts in the contaminated wind.
Fictile dividers slither through the rough swells of the ocean like eels.
Coral Reefs, once teeming with life, are now bleached white, as sea life roams elsewhere, searching for a new home.
Smokestacks belching gray plumes replace the whimsical, puffy clouds dancing in the inviting blue sky.
Muck left by man coats everything in its path, leaving a trail covered in sorrows.
The once vibrant sunset painted sky, now displaced with a bleak, grey pall.
The only residue of plant life exists in the desiccated leaves on the ground, their curled sides infected from fall crunch under the boot of a common man.
The raging sky will roar with thunder and shoot sparks to the ground.
Are they flashes of hope, or a catastrophe?
Sparks that have the ability to galvanize one’s idea for a new era of cleanliness and purity.
The encouragement from Mother Nature herself to present an idea for the impending future.
It is up to mankind to utilize these natural inspirations if you will, to change what has been reduced to ashes.
One will sprinkle drops of water to these ashes to create a firm platform for possibility to thrive and build again.