This is a bizarre stupor to be in, with even bizarre palliatives to deal with an overbearing solitude. But I'm safe inside; where this extremely sensitive heart is trying hard to assimilate reason for the gratuitous suffering and misery of others- all is swirled together to betray a system which is anything but ideal.
All the pieces fit together, yet the heavy metal cells sway tumultuously right in my gut, tearing down the foundation. It's building up facts, where the poor have no security; and unnecessary emissions can always, and could have always been avoided. And almost everything can be done, without shaking up the planet; without hurting any animals, to put it more bluntly (pun intended).
And while I satiate myself with Jane Austen, and the lovely company of my forever friends, I'm aware. I know that some will perish in this fire that will miss me in its path, and has indeed lost me to my four bedroom walls; where I'm safe and sound. I wait, just like everybody else, for things to get better. Hoping that somewhere, someone, must be doing something. So I don't want to wax scientific jargon.
They say that the planet is healing itself, and some practical anorak might call it bullshit. But I do genuinely hope that it's true. For I can see it in the freedom of birds flying past my balcony, and the herd of cows which come to rest here everyday now. The skies seem to be clearing up too; at what cost, we all know.
All the pieces fit together, yet the heavy metal cells sway tumultuously right in my gut, tearing down the foundation. It's building up facts, where the poor have no security; and unnecessary emissions can always, and could have always been avoided. And almost everything can be done, without shaking up the planet; without hurting any animals, to put it more bluntly (pun intended).
And while I satiate myself with Jane Austen, and the lovely company of my forever friends, I'm aware. I know that some will perish in this fire that will miss me in its path, and has indeed lost me to my four bedroom walls; where I'm safe and sound. I wait, just like everybody else, for things to get better. Hoping that somewhere, someone, must be doing something. So I don't want to wax scientific jargon.
They say that the planet is healing itself, and some practical anorak might call it bullshit. But I do genuinely hope that it's true. For I can see it in the freedom of birds flying past my balcony, and the herd of cows which come to rest here everyday now. The skies seem to be clearing up too; at what cost, we all know.
Beautiful post. Your welcome to my blog.
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