(i)

The ocean glistened with an iridescence so blinding. It was as if the stars themselves swam within the cobalt expanse. Gentle winds caressed the fields of flowers and vegetation, a welcoming acknowledgement of the company of birds that glided alongside. Their feathers were adorned in vibrancies unlike any other; warm greens of the brightest emerald, blues of the deepest sapphire, reds and oranges streaked like the hearts of flames. Their song was so sweet, not even the most talented siren could compare. The gods watched from afar, admiring the perfection of their works.

(ii)

The rolling waves hiss and seethe, clambering the jagged overhang of cliffs. The stench of waste slices through musk smoke, suffocating the dying birds and poisoning the wilted trees. It spreads. Toxic residue pools at the feet of the gods. Their heads bow in shame, wings caked with filth that lathers these lands of sorrow. Clefts, like frayed thread, splinter the parched ground. What was once civilisation lies in ruins.

(iii)

The sea will be sapped of its moisture. Carcasses of the last ones to die will lie dried up on its gritty floor. The winds will be long forgotten, having sought refuge elsewhere. Skeletal remnants will be the only proof of past habitation. The gods will look upon these failed lands with regret as their final breaths drain away.