The Place
The city is ailing. It is deserted at will of the most dominated species, the humans, which at its behest has turned greedy. The air could not refresh the lanes and pores of the city as it could not penetrate the high toned buildings which stands in its way. The animals are heavily dependent on the usage of black technologies. These would serve the most greedy more. It emits high amount of carbon and other toxic gases into the air further polluting it, taking back its purity and dampening it. It stinks of shit of all the species who are stuck here. The drains are overflowing. The city is overpopulated. The green spaces has been upturned & uprooted bloodily either to serve the riches or arrange for dwellings to accommodate more.
They live like slaves and still proud themselves with names and titles. It is a misery that the unknown poison is slowly seeping into the veins of the livings. They all are becoming dull and hopeless. The non-living is long dead and rotten. Flowers do not shine. They have faded colors. It could not please the singing creatures who are long gone and migrated. Crows and pigeons are reigning.
The best is to decongest it, fill it with books, open theatres, sprinkling lights, greeting cards, welcome messages, smiling buddhas, balloons, parks and commons, picnic spots, graffitis, candles, bicycle lanes.. and yes.. let the walls fall to pieces. We must leave it to the glory of the master healer - the nature. It would best serve all kind and the shirking unkind.
Sky is the witness of its decline. It is itself blackened by the black and semi black harmful particles. They are in excess everywhere and slowly making their way to the food cycle. The king has lost his moral prowess. He doesn't care much about the bottom 80%. The gossiping has started. The plague will just worsen if things do not change. The machine proliferation must be stopped. Greenery must be worshipped for its age-old blessings.
Let the wind flow ceaselessly across the length and breadth. Let there be songs. Let there be a true peace, the unhaunting one. Let all of them come out and for once let them shout out of their gut, till all of their frustration is gone... Let them cuddle and hug back their city... let them..
They live like slaves and still proud themselves with names and titles. It is a misery that the unknown poison is slowly seeping into the veins of the livings. They all are becoming dull and hopeless. The non-living is long dead and rotten. Flowers do not shine. They have faded colors. It could not please the singing creatures who are long gone and migrated. Crows and pigeons are reigning.
The best is to decongest it, fill it with books, open theatres, sprinkling lights, greeting cards, welcome messages, smiling buddhas, balloons, parks and commons, picnic spots, graffitis, candles, bicycle lanes.. and yes.. let the walls fall to pieces. We must leave it to the glory of the master healer - the nature. It would best serve all kind and the shirking unkind.
Sky is the witness of its decline. It is itself blackened by the black and semi black harmful particles. They are in excess everywhere and slowly making their way to the food cycle. The king has lost his moral prowess. He doesn't care much about the bottom 80%. The gossiping has started. The plague will just worsen if things do not change. The machine proliferation must be stopped. Greenery must be worshipped for its age-old blessings.
Let the wind flow ceaselessly across the length and breadth. Let there be songs. Let there be a true peace, the unhaunting one. Let all of them come out and for once let them shout out of their gut, till all of their frustration is gone... Let them cuddle and hug back their city... let them..
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