Round, frame-less glasses.
To you, I may appear an artist.
But they are merely glass.

It rumbles softly
Cascading off leaves with grace
Falling with intentional chaos
Cleansing the Earth
With revitalising purity

in a garden, slender with summer rose,
where the silvering petals
gathered whisky clouds and love,

the shadows smouldered
while the breezes built bridges of
leaves, in a darkening, near nocturnal world;

and i sat, marvelling at the pretty sunset,
at the shady boughs, at the gorgeous
sky in the fading light with its golds and blues

and i felt calm and settled, while the
sun grew smokey, burnt to ruin,
(in the soon ruined sky) dulling, nearly black.

My blood has boiled to the brim of my skin,
burned my bones,
bled me dry,
now I can’t feel a thing,
but the weight of my shoulders drifting down on me.

You see,
anger runs through my veins like oxygen,
laces across my body,
tangles me within its grip,
I don’t dream because sadness runs my night routine,

Oh,
how dare this body let me sleep when there are human beings suffering?
I may wake up when the sun comes up,
while someone's child may never see daylight,
so who am I to sleep in peace,
when lives are taken away daily.

And who am I but a lost soul,
begging for a kinder world to wake up to.