Oh, the Living

Oh, the living
Down there, so peaceful in their splendid colours and fiery wills, they run.
A will so neat, an instinct to survive so great it has lasted centuries, millennia.
And they conquer and spread and sow and reap all they claim as their own.
Oh, what a life it is they live, sprawling around in hundreds of alcoves, settlements,
valleys, forests, all to their pleasing.
All bending nature as they see fit, all demanding the world to bow and give.
The joy it is to see them all unfold from specks so tiny they can't even notice it themselves, into people and beings and voices that resonate and shatter throughout
the valleys and forests
letting them all be heard true. Letting them all be seen from here above.
And they all sound and laugh and cry.
And they all feed on terror, despair, demise.
And they all will end up in the same places that they all bend and break.
The valleys and forests.
And they will end there, in fickle, little shadows that once rang upon the world in a thousand colours, now only serving as a memory for the remains.
Their glorious, little minds wilt and spring anew, all as they barely remember what they cast aside in their incessant creation of temples.
They fleet on, fire in their hearts, thunder beneath their feet,
stepping ever closer to the day they one day too will be taken away and fed to the
valleys and forests.
Oh, what joy it is to watch them try and try, watch them bend and break, watch them rise and roar,
until their flame withers and their voices dim into the shadows above.