Lonely The Sky Is

How lonely the moon must have felt chasing tails of his own path over and over again. The screams of his longing for someone suppressed by the ever expanding universe. How helpless he feels.

When you lost someone it creates a blackhole in the vacancy; where the the love has departed from. Just like in space. So black in build, almost invisible in its nature. So compressed in form, almost collapsing within. So hallow inside, almost suck everything in. Yet so stable in occurrence, roaming without giving a clue. Neutralizing every theories and laws presented by mankind.

There is no such thing as sound in cosmos. The greatest events happened without leaving a giggle to ear lobs, drawing a perfect picture of what’s happening inside of us. We breath everyday but how sore the wind feels, is only known to lungs. We talk, but how bitter the words are; only tongue knows. We say things, but how harsh they are, only others know. Some people like to put things in sort. They may say “there are 2 kinds, 3 kinds, 5 kinds… of people in the world”. They’re wrong. There are seven billion different kind of people in this world. Everyone of them thinking and feeling in different ways. Oppressing and grieving on their own terms.