Cyclone season, commences.
Second, in two weeks.
Global warming is reversible.
Says, an optimist, of sorts.
Meteorologists, say nay.
More, on the way....
Gods, be angry.
Whichever way, you look at it.
Total eclipses, blackout our sun.
While mutiny erupts, down below.
Violently happy.
Small cog, in big wheel.
An editor says:
Your work is original fiction…
I say: Honey, snap out of it...
Into it.
New era, demands the bloodshed.
Of words, previously unspoken.
I am a tree, that grows color.
Says the lyrics.
Suspended animation.
A state of beauty, and grace.
The drowned World.
A book, close to my heart.
A reunion, with nostalgia.
To future cities.
Buried deep beneath.
Triassic tomorrows.
# transmission ends #
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