The North Star: Revision Two A ripple in the Baltic, the kind that instigates change.

The wind blows snow from the ground to the sky, swirling it into an atmosphere of longer nights, and shorter days. The heights of the Himalayas howls to the grounds below as the snow comes roaring down onto the towns and villages that sheltered small, fragile hearts, now crushed under the weight of frozen water. Nothing is left but fields of white to hide the crimson decay that lingers below. Below, the Earth bubbles and bellows, swelling with exploding pockets of gas and molten fire which rises with harmful intent to swallow the earth and engulf it in flame. Soon nothing will remain but the red flares of light dancing off the fiery flames. Dancing in revolution, a revolt of nature against all creatures that have made their claim to the land. The selfish sense of entitlement for the right to be alive. All glory is fleeting. Nature has risen from its hibernation, angry it calls against the gods and swears its claim to victory. Water recedes back into the earth. back into the belly of a angry mother who calls for her child before exerting force. Never before had man seen its own demise Until it was lead by the hands its own leaders palms, clutching fists of spears and guns. Like it could fight the force of the elements. Plants sensed a change and rose up to rebel against its own state, uprooting itself and turning against nature by attacking its own roots in attempt to finally be free to roam the earth and grow, covering the lands in vine until fire burnt it away. From this destruction, I watched safely above as white ash rose into the air

like tiny notes of distress to an apathetic universe.