By Jahin Tanvir


The smoke signal swept towards the sky,
like solemn stars swimming in a lifeless lustre.
Centuries passing with a small sigh.
As the isle of souls remained abandoned,
Mankind continued with convenience,
Compassion remained in a forgotten incarceration,
Sweet talking decaying under bile,
Bonds of souls becoming fragile.
You stayed stagnant with the windows closed,
Ignoring the reality of the hurricane brewing outdoors,
An artificial ruse for your mind,
Justifying the criminalities of your mouth.
The magic of the ground was uprooted once the engines roared into action,
Its guts spewing disdain amongst the plants,
The clouds desperately tried to aid,
only to blacken with the despair of the dead daisies,
The ice solemnly melted.
But the cogs of the world kept moving.
The totem remained there,
Its roots permanently embedded into the soil of the Earth,
Summer brewed its scorching heat,
Autumn dispelled its sorrows,
Winter charmed with a chaotic freeze whilst,
Spring wept a sullen glow of the aftermath,
It witnessed silently.
There remains no contact between the rain and us,
The canvas of blue stretched over my head as dejection seeped through my spine.
Not even a wisp of white was there to cling any hope onto.
If only we had taken care of the Earth as much as the rain took care of us.