I can hear the sobbing skies, I can see the tearful eyes. A silent ache that screams inside me, burns with grief as I witness this grave of fireflies.
Each passing day, each fleeting hour, a precious soul, a blooming flower, is praying for life.
How can I bear the starlit night, that brings me peace, but suffering to someone else at the same time? For me, the night whispers, "You're not alone," but elsewhere, someone hears a crueler tone: "The world has left you, on your own."
Don't you feel guilty too, to have this comfort, to have the privilege that you even ignore it? For my heart breaks into a million pieces to see how they still have hope in their eyes, the blood in their veins is the same as the blood in the dust while they search for their loved ones, making path for the sun to come back tomorrow.
-Poorwa
Poorwa's blog 
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