Ender’s Game

It’s not that I want this ever.

As a matter fact, I’d never wish it.

The rarest gift coincidentally,

in human hands accidentally.

’Tis the kind to cherish forever,

Yet, we trash, drill, and plunder.

Rarest earth, precious creatures,

loot, pillage, and put asunder.

until left on earth are (in)humans,

the worst kind of leeches.

Just before humans toss the earth,

after juicing it with no care,

I’d like the Gaia take charge,

so she could again recharge

while on other foot shoe we wear.

For our neglect and crime,

It’s not that I want this ever.

As a matter fact, I’d never wish it.

Perhaps if we see our worth

in our created waste

post haste.

Briefest time I’d have no issue

we’re tossed like soiled tissue

Perhaps we’ll nurture and cherish

or perhaps we go back to squarish..

Will we ever learn

to truly our place earn?