In days of old, on Henosis Isle,
Where nature thrived and hearts were mild,
A shift began, a selfish tide,
As "me before all" took its stride.
The fisherman, with nets so wide,
Caught more than needed, cast aside
The balance once so dearly kept,
As fish stocks dwindled, oceans wept.
The farmer, too, with greedy hand,
Used poisons that defiled the land,
For higher yields, he sold his soul,
And fertile fields turned barren, cold.
The merchant brought in goods so cheap,
Non-biodegradable heaps,
The beaches once so pure and bright,
Now buried deep in plastic blight.
Communal duties, once embraced,
Were now neglected, left disgraced,
Each person for themselves alone,
The seeds of discord widely sown.
The island's beauty, once so grand,
Now marred by selfish, careless hands,
Pollution spread, resources drained,
And tensions rose as hope was waned.
Desperation, conflict grew,
As neighbors fought for what they knew,
The sense of unity was lost,
And every gain came at a cost.
No redemption, no reprieve,
Just endless suffering, hearts bereaved,
The island's fate, a tragic tale,
Of how self-interest can prevail.
In the end, the isle lay bare,
A testament to those who dare
To put themselves before the whole,
And lose their way, their heart, their soul.
The population dwindled, gone,
As nature's wrath kept pressing on,
Henosis Isle, a ghostly land,
A warning carved in shifting sand.
