My eyes

A quiet cry in the rain,
with a gentle summer haze
and the soft dim light of the nearby streetlight. What a night 

Next you know, you're in the middle of a climate crisis.  
My head slowly rises up from between my knees and
my eyes gaze into the early morning sun through the trees
and see the dew glistening in the soft light of the morning.

You sit and wonder, how are your eyes so lucky?
All the things you’ve seen with them,
all the sweet adventures and happiness
you’ve been so lucky to have been a part of.

But as you slowly wake up, you realise it’s cold,
and lonely and there's no one around to hold you
or tell you everything's going to be alright.
It's just a world you once knew and loved

crumbling to the ground, burning, dying, flooding, lying.
Everything you thought you knew burns up in flames.
The night sky fades as the harsh sun sets in.
The rain rushes in and sweeps away everything you knew.