The skies hold the moon, the oceans confess,

This world was never meant to bear such distress.

Ancient whispers call for a solemn reset,

Yet the pain of renewal leaves corpses unmet.

Is this the end? The oceans grow heavy,

Winters fall soft, their chill unsteady.

Amusing, perhaps, yet tragic and dire—

The earth’s great rhythm turns to fire.

Sweet poetry and tales, now cast as jest,

Promises crumble; nothing’s left blessed.

The days drift by in a tireless stream,

Chasing the hours 9 to 5 they say, forgetting the dream.

Health is wealth, they echo in vain,

Yet we chase fame, we shoulder the strain.

Wasn’t life meant to be pure and free,

A morning of peace, a life by the sea?

With homes of warmth, and fields to roam,

Grabbing the wood, catching fish near home 

Dinner at night with your familys side we pray for our food and thanks lord for this meal.

Isn’t it the beautiful place to be.

Not bound to farewells with each passing day,

But finding joy in the simplest way.

(The poem reflects a deep lament for the state of the world and a longing for simpler, more meaningful ways of life. It explores themes of environmental degradation, the disconnection from nature, and the relentless pursuit of material success at the cost of personal and societal well-being. It contrasts the harsh reality of modern life—marked by climate change and monotonous labor—with an idyllic vision of harmony with nature, where life is about sustenance, connection, and peace. Ultimately, it’s a call to reevaluate what truly matters before it’s too late.)