I'll give you the wind. I shall capture it in my arms for safekeeping and hand you the melting sun for the day you call upon them for force and strength.
My dear, this world has been crafted by us for ourselves. I handed you every tool and you carved the dripping stars. I cut out paper poppies and planted them into boiling soil with great care and honesty. We left the planet for our own adventure, came back to view its growth and creatures. This is our world, borrowed by humans and birds. They simply hold this land for now.
I know they will return it to us some day, when they are all gone and we are the only ones left. Then, we shall walk the bare soil and wait for it to heal; wait for it to grow again.
My dear, that would be beautiful to experience with you.