A World Unraveling

The air hums with the weight of whispers, of promises broken before they were made. Skies once endless now streaked with fire, oceans rising like hands reaching, asking if we still remember their name. Cities pulse in restless hunger, neon veins feeding sleepless bodies. Glass towers stretch toward absent gods, while shadows curl in alleyways, where the forgotten carve silence into stone. Somewhere, a child draws a sun on a cracked wall, yellow and bright. Somewhere, a soldier closes his eyes, hearing home in the wind, a lullaby lost in the noise of war. We stitch borders into the earth, call them laws, call them safety. But the wind does not ask for permission, nor does the rain know the weight of the flags we raise like shields. And yet, the trees still speak in green, the rivers still sing their silver songs. Hope lingers in hands held tight, in voices rising against the silence, in the small, stubborn light of tomorrow.