<u>Sleep Sweet Gaia</u>


    <u> </u>


    Understanding; pure of purpose,


    Knowledge; tool of progress,


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    Yet what purpose has man


    As he digs his own grave.


    Insight; gift of thought,


    Thought; demand of sapience,


    Yet if my ancestors could look upon me,


    Would they not choose to stay up in their tree?


    And lo now our judgement is come,


    Not God, not other; Just us


    Justice with hint of bitter irony,


    And so the apocalypse of man


    Is the lullaby of the world.