Wind glided through the forest ringing like bicycle bells as it blesses the leaves with its presence,
Making a magical sound.
The canopy moves in a synchronised dance
Waving goodbye to the breeze.
There's a harmony and a melody that can never be overlooked.
The woods come together in this special movement creating wonder for those on earth.
The pine trees have practised their rehearsal a lot of times
And the cold wind is their music.
Some pieces of wood that are now painting the forest floor, strewn all over were once giant creatures greeting the sky.
Now they mould into the soil below..
But the circle of life goes on as it often does.
These tree barks are now home to ants and caterpillars and insects and tiny creatures with no home.
Even after a tree's death, it can provide life to many beings.
Little vines creep up over the brown on the forest floor, making sure that the dead tree barks don't feel lonely.
Everything humans do is for themselves.
We give love because we expect love and loneliness is our imperfection.
But nature teaches us that the entire forest is one,
Breathing together, living together, dying together
And even after death, growing together.

baby blue skies cold
fresh snow covers soft earth
                growth awakening

Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees,
It bends the bough but never breaks the stone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

It pours like rain that falls on trembling seas,
Then leaves as sudden, and we stand alone—
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees.

It burns like sun through winter’s brittle freeze,
Then hides in clouds where shadows chill the bone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

It grows like moss in darkened symmetries,
A quiet bloom where none had ever shone—
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees.

It carves through time like roots in centuries,
Reclaiming all we thought was carved in stone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

So heed the hush of nature’s mysteries:
The heart is earth, the soul is overgrown.
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees—
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

Look to the garden
Should the bricks start to crumble
Earth will light the way

tawny leaf-littered
autumn's cold chill
amber sun, filtered
one tree, one hill

smoky-water rains
water scented earth
heart-loss pains
worms unearth'd

bristled seeds drift
sunset winds, rest
fluff and dust admidst
a heaving chest

sun-warmth falter
cloud coats gold
body upon an altar
everything turns cold

I gave my globe a spin
and watched it whirl -
far too fast to read
the blood-bought labels,
printed on its paper shell.

The summer dawn summoned me
beyond the entry door,
so I stepped outside to
plant my boots on a larger sphere
where the scale is one to one
and all the hues are earth tones.

I raised my hand to feel the sweep
of a morning breeze
and stooped to cup a draft
from a meandering stream.

That hand might be mine or theirs
or yours or ours. It’s all the same!

There is only one air mass,
but a single body of water
and not a hectare of sod
can draw its borders or confess its name.

April, 2025

Ascetic are our ways,
But vitalizing, our planet.
A beast of ever-changing,
Host to a home of restless thinkers.
We plan to live, to thrive, to marry, to survive,
But never to accept mortems call.

It is our way, it is our want, we never change, we only taunt,
To continue with the optimum:
To continue to destroy, to hate, to ****,
We claim to evolve, yet remain astray,
Step in sync, we demand,
Join the march of regret.

We cry wolf:
Declare deaths unnatural--
Only proper if they fit our chosen form!

We cry dog:
Condemn those like us, yet not us,
Brand them evil for daring to exist!

We cry human:
Denounce those who dare not follow our rule,
Who betray our command!

To be a person, to be a human, we set limits, we set categories, we set nature,
We dictate what 'right' ought to be,
But who are we to decide what should and shouldn't?
Who are we to assert good and evil,
When nature simply exists--
To neither be right,
To neither be wrong,
Beyond our classifications and laws,
Is to be natural.

But then arises the paradox:
To be truly natural is to be beyond,
To not comprehend anything that lies beneath,
To be truly neutral and never bound,
Is to coat our mural red,
Is to shatter our world as we know it.

So we heal, we steal, we build, we break,
Not for the earth--
Not for the beast who knows no sin or virtue,
But for the world we forged in fire and din,
A world of our design,
A world of human hands.

The earth is so beautiful, isn’t it?
So beautiful that even the moon revolves around it.
Their love, as pure as the love of a bee for a flower.

Like the rainbow that only appears
Just to see the rain that calls it.
It's like a butterfly with colorful wings.
Just like the thorns that protect the roses,
The sun keeps the earth safe.

But what about the moon?
The moon is the great admirer of the earth.
It always stays alone even though it has its earth.
The moon, which is ten times more beautiful than the sun,
Loves the earth whose beauty cannot be described in words.

Even the love of rain for earth is the purest kind.
Because it always purifies the earth and nourishes it.
It calms down the earth which has suffered a lot.

Many love earth in different ways,
But nobody can love the earth as the moon does.
Because the moon dies before the earth,
Sacrificing itself for its eternal love.

A grand scenery,

it makes my presence smaller --


and also my thoughts.

fields of lavender
as far as the eye can see,
in rows of scented purple
growing insatiable idiosyncrasies,
our minds are a rich, deep soil
and the children of our thoughts
run free,

run free
and light,
run free
and careless,
like a river to the sea.

the heart is programmed
to be broken,
to let in the light,
and the earth in us is woken,
our heart will open,
it will open,

when we take in our first
breath of this heaven.