To be or not to be a human
The little one needs to be saved, the schism to be, or not to be
Man and his mind revolve around protecting his kin
Rose, Are you there? In the deep wilderness, I am penetrating inside the thick cover, searching for my baby. She came here in the wilderness, along with the tight baby shirt she wore on her skin, her hair is still entrapped in my hands. The way she covered her basal legs with her face when I first met her, she had an amputated leg back then, tears flow through all pores of my skin along with eyes and I wished I could share her sorrows, being thrown around like a ball of fur, as a handicapped lady she has gone through a lot, and I cannot imagine or rather fathom her pain.
The rotating sphere takes me inside the wormhole of species centricity, atop lay the dangled world and at rock bottom, us,
We are not devoid of power, we run stealing eggs, plants and bones, and dump them in the oceans only to end up entrapping the items under a Tortoise’s neck,
Even he has to suffer the slow passing of the bone stuck between the four walls of his neck, which is slowly killing him,
Even if you try swimming in the oceans, rivers and valley ponds, all circumventing murderers will spin ahead of you and there is no place to hide,
For both Flora and Fauna alike, today is a tortoise, tomorrow will be lobsters laden with the capability to live 200 years and yet destroyed in seconds.
With the multiple eggs she carries on her shells, all of it is dragged out and dipped in the boiling water.
How many will you hide, Rose, Daffodil, Tulip, Lily and Lotus? Are all dying a deranged death?
Mauled while crossing roads, burning alive in forest fires, hunted for body parts, and all across the spans of green their homes are shrinking, being squeezed under concrete slabs,
Even the most devious animals in accordance to strength are countable, but humans won’t reduce, they will continue pushing the walls of the jungles against each other.
If one of the culprits loses the speciesist debauchery, more than half of the fauna will be wiped out.
The crazy maze of intersectional frames is not enough to hide Rose and her two small adorable babies.
As I grabbed Mr. Shelly the grieved Tortoise in my hand, the sunlight fell onto me creating a reflection, I looked at myself in a glistening reflection in the sea.
All my hands are red somehow! “This is exceptionally disgusting!” As I shout trying to wash my hands off all the redness of blood as it irks and disgusts me, the photo frames move fast, at a pacing speed. A photo of me holding a headless goat on my back appears. There was a severed head falling near the centre of the ocean turning the ocean red. The true horror started creeping where till the end of my gaze and the entire panorama, there were chickens, goats and bull body parts falling on the oceans from the sky. I looked inside the ocean of blood being surmounted by the heavy felling of bodies, I saw Rose’s head in my hands while gazing at my reflection again in the water…
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