In the cradle of Creation, our Mother Earth does sigh, Echoes of lamentation, under the indifferent sky. Born from her womb, inheritors of time, We find our home in disarray, the consequence of crime.

Her rivers once ran freely, clear as the morning's dew, Now tainted by indifference, a sickly shade of rue. Her mountains tall and proud, now scarred by human greed, Her silent plea for mercy, goes unnoticed, unheeded.

Forests once so verdant, life's vibrant, beating heart, Now stand like ghostly sentinels, their souls torn apart. The creatures of the wild, in quiet corners they weep, As their homes turn to ashes, and into oblivion, they seep.

The oceans, deep and boundless, bear witness to our sins, Choked by our discarded waste, a battle no one wins. The air we breathe, once pure, now tainted with our carelessness, An inheritance of apathy, a legacy of distress.

Yet, among the ruins, a seed of hope does bloom, A chance for reparation, a chance to avert our doom. The youth have found their voices, in the face of dire straits, They march for their tomorrow, they march to change their fates.

In their hands, they carry the torch of hope and fear, A beacon in the darkness, their mission crystal clear. To heal the wounds of Mother Earth, to right the wrongs of old, To reclaim their stolen futures, with courage strong and bold.

The hourglass is dwindling, the sands of time run thin, Yet, we are not defeated, the fight is ours to win. For the world is ours to nurture, to love and to protect, A truth we must remember, a vow we must not neglect.

In the ashes of the old, a new world will arise, Resilient and restored, under brighter, cleaner skies. For we are the children of the Earth, her strength in us resides, And we will fight to save her, no matter what betides.

In this tale of love and loss, let our legacy not be scorn, But a world revived and treasured, for generations yet unborn. In the end, we are but stewards, of this precious, blue-green pearl, In the vast cosmic theater, our home, our world.