Splashes of color

makes our eyes explore,

Searching and searching

for so much more.

The humankind was never kind to them.

From their peaceful Pliocene graves
they were dug out, doggedly read,
their skulls and bones laid bare
gorged upon every finest details
all the apparent lunacy
directed to determine a link
always close yet too far.

Roaming that placid basin
they could not dream
to be a mystery past two million years
crazily pursued to be cracked open.

They have been branded Nutcracker Man.

These Holocene men are truly nuts.

Fast more fast and a faster drive
Speed not kills but saves his life
Reach quicker and deliver more
Matters only numbers of door.

Someone's son someone's heartthrob
Forgets all when ******* job
Quick quicker on quickest mode
Bike wheels burn on asphalt road.

In lanes bylanes must find address
Can't afford one small recess
A brief meeting and end of deals
Pocket bunched with paid bills.

Around moon is a haloed mist
But night is one cruel beast
Won't let him look above
Think of a poem sweet in love.

Just another stone on a broken shore.
No meaning nor purpose just drifting towards home
And what's left of that heart when it's love is forlorn
Is it empty? Is it hollow?
Left lifeless, loveless, no path to lead nor follow

Or does it somehow live on in perpetual silent scream
Breathing on loneliness,
Consumed by regrets and despair
And please, please tell me whatever happens...
Whatever happens when that heart finally just stops.
Is it cast away on a wasteland of rock
Just another stone on someone else's broken shore