Poem: It is here.


It is here,
that water keeps flowing,
here and there
but not a drop, to quench our thirst.

It is here,
where, we leave the withering plants
and wet the green plants.
That even, when the sky seems falling,
we’ve never learnt to form a bunch of broom,
but, rather remain as scattered broomsticks.
We live like the two faces of a coin,
such that, blood battles within the vein.
We smile but burm im the heart.
We speak the right but act the wrong.

It is here,
where the need to be strong
fights the need to be strong,
because the strongest tree
of all forests do not last,
and we want to last.
We allow the embers to die
and celebrate the ashes.

Alas! It is here,
that our needs and creations
contral and separate us.
Where phallus mate phallus and moan
it is here again
like Sodom and Gomorrah.  

It is here
where there is the need to shout
but our voice are turned to mere whispers
of snakes that crawl on mountains.

Alas! It is here
where our doom we have created
through our findings, adventures
and thirst for power
well, we hasten out return,
after all, we are nothing but dusts.

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