When the Earth Cries

When cataclysms occur – volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, typhoons, tsunamis – people react differently. Some see it as divine punishment: retribution for sins, a harbinger of the end of the world. Others explain it from a scientific point of view – the movement of tectonic plates, global warming, ozone holes. Still others believe it's a conspiracy, artificial interference, the testing of climate weapons.

But none of them even suspect that our planet is a living organism. Not just a stone ball spinning in the void, but a being capable of feeling. And all these manifestations are not destruction, but emotions. Signals, cries, tears.

The Earth is suffocating. Thick clouds of ash erupt from its depths, shaking mountain ranges. It's coughing, ridding itself of the poison that people inject into its lungs day after day. Factories, pipes, exhaust fumes… Its body fights the infection, but no one hears its hoarse breathing.

It cries, and its tears are not just rain. They fall in downpours, sweeping away cities. People flee from floods, cursing the elements, but it doesn't even occur to them: maybe the Earth is sobbing? Maybe it's in so much pain that it can no longer hold back the torrents of water? Its oceans rise like tears in eyes, overflowing the edges.

When the Earth gets angry, its hands – hurricanes – scatter everything in their path. It doesn't want to destroy. But how else can it make it clear that it's suffering? How else can it scream if everyone around is deaf? Its heart – tectonic plates – beats unevenly, causing earthquakes, knocking out a rhythm that no one hears.

And sometimes it laughs. Yes, with the laughter of a volcano, which people mistake for a catastrophe. Thick lava flows, and in it is energy, the power of life. Where everything burns, something new is born later. Where the earth cracks open, life eventually appears. But people don't understand its humor.

There are days when the Earth freezes. For a moment, everything becomes quiet – no wind, no waves. It's as if it's holding its breath, listening. Maybe at that moment someone understood? Heard it? Felt it?

But then again, factories release smoke into the sky, again forests are cut down, again rivers are filled with poisonous foam.

And then the Earth cries again.

And laughs again.

And gets angry again.

Not because it hates us. Not because it wants us harm.

It's just alive.

For now.