Losing Identity
Walking amidst standing vivid trees falling gloomy leaves, Reaching the murky waters whispering sacred symbols, Weary yet carrying debts and caring for none but few, Frequent flyers gaze on this new naked rotten part of bark, Dancing rigorously dislocating arms and a star’s trickery, Our leaves and yours; fascinated yet lost in black mazes, A foot there and another drinking on thirsty tombs, I stood on hills calling for listeners of identity retrievers, Odd I might be, but a person with mind, body and soul, And a tongue forged within the ancient blessed trees, A lost item inside copious plants decorating the mud, Still whispering hallowed codes frowning at fancy twinkles, Thieves soaring over mausoleums borrowing wild leaves, Never to return as a born leaf but a putrid grassy thief, Forgotten Earth Whisperers die of poverty and hunger, I keep touching them for remembrance; annual festivity, If only Earth Whisperers were inhaled by those thieves, If only the hill I am ...