Faith in Fire

When you've burned up the last tree,

and the flames lick at your feet,

and the grains fall across your face

will you mourn your own pity

or will you see?

The earth will make this right,

the winds will blast sand

and ground down the glass and steel

the wood and concrete

to dust in water

and again we'll be gone.

Like we were never here before.

Like we never set feet.

So will you mourn for that,

or the chance we spoiled to go to the stars,

you selfish. Fucking. Child.

You could've been a billionaire too, though.
Right?

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