With thoughts as scattered as the morning sun,
the impatient breeze dances in my lungs.
The melodies of birds spoken in tongues;
wisps of clouds are constantly on the run.
The leaves are the signs of a battle won
between the laurels and the air that hung.
The fading moon tells a story unsung
and the sky awakes as the lonely one.
Constant movement becomes reality.
Consumed with both the future and the past,
Disconnected from present mentality.
A broken relationship with nature;
it’s the one thing we hope we don’t outlast,
trust to withstand our own brutality.