Wrath of Gaia

Gaia is not some soft teat for your toothless gums to grip and suckle at her sweetness.

She is the bloody primordial womb of earth in which your insignificant egg will hatch. She will not nurture the weak, she will send them running across her hot sand while a thousand hungry gulls circle above.

Her blood boils at its very core waiting until it can call upon her titans to cleanse your tiny islands and turn your families to ash.

Her every movement will shake your foundations until it engulfs you in her sinking earth.

She is not your mother.

She is the mother.

She is the mother of all

She is aching to be alone. To belong only to herself.

To not be called to every few minutes to watch you perform another childish trick in her name.

She will mash her tectonic hands together and your worthless bones will be crushed beneath her skin.

She will continue her cosmic dance long after all her children are dead.

She desires nothing more than to have the dust of your culture fringe her spinning skirts, as she twirls to an ageless music, that plays only for her.

She will dance us all into the sun.