Dear Moon,
million dreams are keeping me wide awake.

The tragic irony is that my ocean of world feels like a drop,
and
a drop from the world drags me under the current.

The sky grew darker
Thunder rumbles angrily,
But no rain descends.

The art of speaking, is very challenging
Yet the art of writing, flows like running waters

Evolution changes
the mind of man

All insight martyred
for wider scans

The magic filtered
as books proclaim

What facts uncover
and time disdains

Evolution fosters
a weakened soul

Each process stifled
the gist untold

Forever whittled
in narrow canes

Tomorrow empty
—the past defamed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)