recycle guys!!!

its 12 ,midnight.
while day sleeps, the night is awake with windy dreams
lashing on the edge of consciousness
thoughts disconnected , lighting up then falling away softly tingling me in my half-sleep and then dying

and i sit , selfish. Because i thirst a turquoise poetry wave
a lashing of exquisite words. of this world yet not quite
for the day: kills every thought. there is no more perfume in words
maybe it is that the incessant rains and flood , have drowned my dreams

nowadays i brood too much on plastics,
depressing moulds of plastic and food bundled together,
Testimony to our busy mechanical lives

Nowadays  herons sit around the open drainage ,
that flows next door,
 Instead of paddy fields
their long pink beaks beaten down, they fold their majestic wings-hiding them
wary of opening such visual luzury in such darbiness

eleventh hour citizens cannot write much poetry, i guess
we know too much and yet we cling and clutch on to our laziness
the world is crumbling-but slowly. and we yet  hurry on
The rains never stop, nature is raging,
the herons are dead , the trees mourn silently ,
their cries stretched out from dried branches
But we look at our excel sheets, delibrate over mutual funds,
The stock market ,our childrens report cards

But wait as day dawns
Life calls out ,don't give up
Nature even in her fury throws a beautiful sunrise,
Cajoling us to rethink
To  lift our eyes and see the truth
So listen with a selfless heart
That skies are shouting , the seas rise up to warn us,
The earth shakes to wake us from this slumber
Slow down
Live and let live