The end of our time, the face of the crime.
Humanity, evolved and then de-evolved.
What have we achieved apart from burning bodies and mourning souls?
What will become of me, become of you, become of us?
There is no hope, despair reigns.
I don’t want to know how the economy works, I don’t want to walk the steps to a successful business.
I just want to see the forest grow and cry when the rain pours down.
I want this concrete society to be earth again, land again, mud again.
I crave to wipe the face of machines of this land that hold us slaves, I crave to bring the dead back to life.
The sun, a wild spectator, day by day witnessing the horrors of the natural.
Weeping lands, the rivers can no longer be pure, we are impure by the grace of humanity.
What woeful dream had come to someone in which he designed human?
I am appalled by my existence and I only hope this ends soon, that we end soon.
© Aniket More