I'm still alive

Just to fly , above the skies.

Don't wanna trapped in this truth and lies .

This world is chained by chains of hate .

Which can e broken by only hope and faith .

I want to wander under this thunder.

In this world of outlandish.

Cause I'm a solivagant

Trap me in this second.

I wanna live this moment

forever.

This beautiful butterfly

Flying under the sky

Give a hope that i can fly .

This magical angelic rain.

Pures the blood in my veins

I can't live in this world smithereened.

Where memories are congeries.

A bus or a train

Take a tour if this world once again.

Cause I'm a solivagant.

Trap me in this second.

I wanna live this moment .

Forever.

There are whispers

Suffocating rumors

Tomorrow's deep pockets are full of sand

We hold power in our hands like water

No containment

Fear must fall in drops and settle into streams

Drink it up

Feel it in your thirst

Feel it tighten 'round your throat

been living longer than memory tells
remembering it all,
way beyond this minds eye

ancestors weaved inside your soul
the Universal big bang still explodes
as you coalesce around a star.

pulled apart by time and Moon
washed up on a tide and tide again
to sink below an ocean of dreams.

You can plant flowers in the space of someone else's absence.
You can still feel the absence but you'll learn how to grow your own flowers without the help of anyone,
and in time, you'll have a garden full of the things you love

Have we run out of raw materials
needed for poetry.

The nature has all but disappeared

The smoke has blanked the sky

The sea is filled with toxic garbage

The imposing mountains are littered
with dead bodies of unlucky climbers

The Sun and Moon are eclipsing each other more number of times now than they did in the past.

The breathing air carries deadly pathogens.

Where is the raw material for writing poetry?

I cannot find any.