Humans. I can smell you all over this place, this city, this planet. It used to be so pure and beautiful, and now it’s crying under all the weight you put on it. Humans.I’ve watched you for centuries; I bet none of you even know. I’ve been silent, waiting with my breath baited for you to leave, for nature to get tired and flush you out like the toxic waste you really are.

What do you know? You’re small, close-minded, stupid. You know nothing about loyalty, about greatness, about eternity; you know nothing about love.

That’s what your pathetic world is supposed to be about, isn’t it? The ever present secret power, keeping everything in motion, turning the planet and rolling the wheels. You’ve had poets and bards and infatuated fools who threw themselves off cliffs to prove their love; like it would prove anything but their mortality. These days, you pretend it doesn’t exist. You prefer gleaming leather suitcases and suits – you’d rather roll in money than go to sleep content.

Although that’s the way it’s always been, I suppose. I saw the first time humans sinned; I see nothing of that pure passion, desire to live, in you. It’s bleak and greying, washed out over time, like everything is bound to.

The millenia have made me bitter, I know that. I have long since admitted to myself how I wish to have tiny limbs like you, even if it made me just a part of a herd, a piece of cattle – I’d rather my life was a mere blip in time than all eternity, spent like this, standing still, unable to move by my very nature.

I’m sure none of you would think so, but even I yearn for something. Everyone, everything does. If you listened, you’d hear it wherever you go, the silent, steady beating of the Earth’s very core, see the lines running through time like pulsating veins. You’d hear it in the whispering of the forest, see it in the reflection of the night sky with all its stars. You’d know, then – and maybe you’d realize how futile your existence really is.

You see, love, that’s not something that comes and goes. We’re all born with it; every living thing, even those you think are dead. I have a heart, too; it beats deep within me, strong, but always too silent. I’ve been here since the beginning of time, and what I yearn for I’ve only ever touched once – when we all were one, just a swirling mess of colors; what would later become my home, your home.

How often do you look up at the sky? Every day, I’m sure. It’s always there, covering you, safe like a blanket on a winter’s day. I’ve seen the sky; it’s the only thing I see, I’m surrounded by it, drowned in it, and yet, I have no way of reaching out, feeling as whole as I have in that one moment on the brink of creation.

Some days, I find myself wishing for an end. Something that would make us into clouds of smoke, into swirls of colors with no concerns, careless, like children.

Some days, I find myself cursing love, and the way it awakens a heart in all of us.

You have no idea about eternity, you, humans.

If you did, you’d wish to be dead.