In the End, Mama Wins
by Kisma Reidling
When the towers of glass fall silent and the vaults of gold rust into dust… when the flags have burned themselves out and the wars have devoured their own noise… when the smoke of careless industry thins and the names of the famous fade from trembling screens… Mama remains.
She has outlived empires before. She has swallowed armies, softened monuments, and turned the bones of the greedy into fertile soil. Skyscrapers crumble into sediment. Ego dissolves into wind. Wealth cannot bribe the tides.
The thieves, the liars, the conquerors, the indifferent—each returns to her the same way: quietly, without title.
Long after the last argument has echoed into nothing, grass will push through cracked concrete. Roots will split foundations. Rivers will reroute themselves without permission. The moon will still pull the oceans into their silver breathing.
Mama Earth does not rush. She does not compete. She does not need to win.
She simply remains.
And when we are long gone, she will still be here—turning, greening, remembering how to begin again.
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May Peace Prevail on Earth
may peace prevail in my mind
may peace prevail in my heart
May I know peace
may my ancestors know peace
unto seven generations.
May Peace Prevail on Earth.
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In the End, Mama Wins
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I am a writer. I am an artist. I experiment with AI sometimes. I welcome individuals who explore their own creativity, & know the value of community.
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