A children's story

A children's story.

We are the unborn children. We are walking down the beach, gazing around us at the other people here. Our feet sink into the warm sand. Ahead of us a group of adults are playing with a beach ball, throwing it from one person to the other, and each time the ball seems to be a little smaller. As we come closer we see that the ball is a tiny Earth. Many people are joining in with the game now, children as well. We call out to them, telling them to stop, but they laugh and throw even faster. The ball keeps growing smaller and smaller, and it's really obvious how much damage they're doing. We start to shout at them, and now we're joined by all the people who care about us. Here are all the ghosts of the animals that they've brought to extinction, all the people that they have destroyed and enslaved. We crowd around them, pressing closer and closer, and there is fear in their eyes. But they do not stop. As the ball diminishes, the swimmers in the water come onto shore, coughing and choking. The trees around the edge of the sand are shrivelling and dying. The creatures of the sea beach themselves in a desperate attempt to get away from the acidity of the water. Our tears pool at our feet, lapping at our toes, and even those are polluted now.
Finally one of us leaps for the Earth, now the size of a golf ball, and all of us join the struggle in a life or death game of keepings off. The tormentors throw the earth higher and higher. The birds swoop above us, and now one of them catches the earth in its claws, and flies far away, keeping it safe.
We all leave the beach, staring at the destruction. And the question that's beating a frantic tattoo inside our minds can be heard in the lamenting wails of all living things.
Why?