I fear the civilized ones. 

They don’t know how winds blow through the wheat grains 

and make them forget their growths, their own inflammations, their deaths. 

They are educated enough to make bombs out of scratches, 

but they are without the realizations of missing rains, sleeping on the walkaways with a dog licking their faces. 

Women inside a room by the rails of windows…trying to find water drops on their fingers…

they don’t know how to get out and checkmate deaths by feeding dirt and lights to their skins. 

They find god in skies and make a mockery out of it. 

I can’t find comfort in them…there are only whispers and half eyes…

only twisted humours…

I have run miles, 

I have made my fire without their inventions…

I just fear I will be burned on the same ground as them.

……………………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Google.