The Bench at The End of The World

I am  sitting on the edge
of the bench at the end of the world.
The sea stretches out before me.
The. hills roll over and away.
But this is it -
the end of the day. 
It is beautiful here, 
the sea still like slate,
the sky so cobalt clear. 

Look up.
Look up.
Look up.
The world does not begin at your feet.
That is where she ends.
Where you squashed her.

I am sitting here after the forest fires,
the earthquakes and floods,
after the screaming children
with no home left untouched.
I am sitting here beyond -
the need to divide. 
Where no caring soul,
could fair to survive.

So watch,
watch
watch
watch the waves crash against the rocks,
watch the grass whisper to the winds,
for this is how nature sings.

There is no better place
than the bench at the end of the world,
to ponder what beauty
we could have made,
You once knew love,
and you squandered its means.
So the earth took it back,
all that was calm and serene.

Now, Listen
Listen
Listen
If you give her your care,
she will grant you her favour
For as one day darkens,
another world can dawn.

This world is lonely,
she waits for her friends.
And despite all you did, 
she's saved you a seat
on the day that it ends.
I'd rather be here.
I'd rather forge a new friendship,
rekindle the one that we lost.
Than miss out on her beauty,
and all that it costs.