The Kismet
Eerie, heaven has sunk, roof on houses have
disappeared, as has freedom of disagreement,
“anti” is stamped on the forehead on those who
dare question the righteousness of the mighty.
It doesn’t matter now though, silent and without
mercy the heaven presses us into the soil, it is
useless to scream; on the other hand if we look
up, we may angles be, or failing that; tiny stars.
Mist clouds drift passed my window, looks in
with a communal eye, seek revenge for the tree
I vandalized; and there will be no peace before
we get it: “nature will heal itself without us!”