Just as the cicadas buzz…the cats meow and the snakes hiss…the human’s cry
out of anger
We all express ourselves differently. When we see tears, we perceive it differently.
Humans and everything human—is quite astonishing.
When relationships are broken and ties are severed, loved ones died and everything is all over the news,
Sometimes, there is too much noise pollution in human lives that we wish we could change or silence it forever.
We all cry differently because different aren’t we?
But how we hear the noise and how we listen to each other’s cry are what make us humans.
When a mother cries because her son assaulted someone else’s sons and daughters…
When the son blames his father’s alcohol addiction…
When the daughter takes all the consequences and keeps silent…
When people are just people…
Isn’t this the world?
Someone died. All three people cried.
They cried in their own way and all the world did was let go.
I guess everything continues to happen even before one makes the decision?
Time doesn’t wait and its value reduces or increases depending on how one perceives it. Either we erase the concept of time in our memories or we wait until we are ruled out of this world.
still, we are shown a series of open roads leading to something or somewhere…
So what if a decision was made?
another path opens, a new set of people appear, the journey continues, isn’t this what one normally hears?
I wonder if humans have really progressed or only delayed the result?
Just as the cicada’s buzz…the cat’s meow and the snake’s hiss… the human’s cry.
We have thoughts about how to live a life just as cockroaches have a way to survive.
Cockroaches that don’t make noise when scavenging filths everywhere
They run and hide
They grow big and come out flying at times
Pests they are and always will be
My eyes grow in amazement how no matter the conditions, they do what they do. They live how they live. Yes, cockroaches they really are.
and if a cockroach gets separated, becomes a stranger and died, they wouldn’t even have to bother making a fuss.
They live a silent life, going through the motions even though they are scarred for life.
Not that humans are cockroaches.
When families get separated and become strangers to one another and die that’s when we become alike.
Silently we go on our lives even though we are scarred for life.
We all cry differently, but do we know otherwise?