REQUIEM – A Theatrical Obituary for Humanity

Requiem for Humanity: The Final Verdict

This is what happened when ownership replaced stewardship.

PART 1 – THE HISTORIAN

A spotlight. A lone figure at a dusty lectern.

THE HISTORIAN: Once, there was a world. Not a perfect one. But whole.

She spun quietly, breathed in balance, and changed only when the time came. She birthed and buried. She burned and healed. She endured.

She gave rise to a dance of fang and feather, tide and trunk, birth and decay. Each being played its part. None believed they were the conductor.

They say history repeats. But the truth is: It forgets.

A new species emerged: upright, clever and dangerous. At first, they were like the rest... woven into rhythm. They remembered. They sang with stars, carved stories into stone, fed the soil and let it feed them back.

But memory fades. And a shadow bloomed.

Not a storm, not a war... but a hunger. Not all were taken. But enough.

They no longer danced with the Earth. They dug into her.

They built cities that scraped the sky. Poisoned rivers to power their lights. Paved over bones of the past and called it progress.

They didn’t see the smoke until it wrote their names across the sky.

They believed they could master nature. But forgot: Nature doesn’t bargain. She waits.

And now, she speaks.

PART 2 – MOTHER EARTH

A figure emerges. Covered in moss, ash, salt, and scars. She speaks calmly. No need to raise her voice.

MOTHER EARTH: I gave you everything. And I asked for nothing.

Not worship. Not praise. Only that you remember: you were never separate. You were breath. Blood. Song.

You learned from ants, fire, sky. Built homes from mud. Tools from bone. You danced, you mourned and you gave back.

And I loved you.

But something cracked. A voice inside you whispered: Take more. Grow faster. Own everything.

And you listened.

You paved my veins into highways. Carved your roads into mountains. Made fire that outlived forests. You called me resources. You called yourselves advanced.

But what did you advance? Your loneliness? Your wars? Your hunger for meaning in a world you gutted for convenience?

You killed not to survive, but because it was profitable. You bred animals only to butcher them. You ate their babies. Because their flesh was soft.

You said you were trying. You sorted trash. Signed petitions. Liked the right posts. Then boarded planes. Bought more and blamed others.

And worst of all... you thought I belonged to you.

You mapped me. Named me. Sold me in pieces over and over. Mountains. Rivers. Islands. As if you could own breath.

You divided what was never yours. You bled my soil with your own kind’s blood — wars upon wars for imaginary lines on a planet that never drew them.

You claimed to love your country. But never the ground it stood on.

You fought for power. But never fought to preserve the pulse.

And when you had poisoned your forests, you looked to other planets. Other worlds. As if your right to exist extended beyond the mess you made.

You thought you could escape me. You couldn’t even protect yourselves from yourselves.

And still... You built bombs that could shatter my bones in seconds.

You called it deterrence. I called it a countdown.

But I do not hate you. I do not grieve you. I just correct imbalance.

You were not the first to go. You won’t be the last to try.

I do not end. I adapt.

It was never me who needed saving. It was you.

And this is a Requiem for Humanity

PART 3 – THE CREATOR

No figure. Just a voice. Everywhere and nowhere.

THE CREATOR: They were warned. Not once. Not subtly.

Born with knowledge of cycles. Wisdom of decay. Beauty of restraint.

They touched stars, but couldn’t hold silence. Unlocked atoms, but couldn’t sit still.

They could name constellations, but forgot to mourn a dying tree.

They believed they were special. But forgot: Every species believes that, right before it disappears.

I didn’t create them to fail. Nor to rule. They were possibility.

And possibility comes with choice. They had millions. They chose this.

You ask: Why didn’t I intervene? Because intervention is not creation. And consequence is not cruelty.

I didn’t destroy them. They outlived their own story.

And the world turned the page.

A final rumble. The last heartbeat. A screen flashes:

ARCHIVE CLOSED. HUMAN CIVILIZATION: TERMINATED DUE TO SELF-INFLICTED UNSUSTAINABILITY.

EARTH STATUS: STABLE.

BOOM.

Message to the next civilization: We knew better. We chose worse.

Read part one: How we lost our soul long before we lost our planet. https://www.hownottoloseyourmind.com/post/blog-spiritually-bankrupt-humanity-collapse