Love Shivering, not from cold. FEAR. Living, not on air. DESIRE. Reach folks, ensure they’re sentient; To believe I have; Moments yet, abiding. But do I really have any time left? Wandering around like a feather on mother Earth’s breath. Sensing moments of clarity, miraculously. Oh dear mother, what have the people done to me? It’s wrong to blame, for all I see; Is darkness. And emptiness feel. Did you yearn this on your child mother?