Journal 1| for all the thoughts i think connection is key

I believe I’m connected to the Earth. I believe I’m connected to the earth .

My head feels its wrath. I scream as the sky, cries in agony, what a wondrous way of life.

I see the shifting moon I feel emotional, even the cosmos are under control.

It’s all going to plan.

The contents of this mysterious shift?

I don’t know, for the wailing wind and the pelting rain go hand-in-hand.

The birds fly, God holds them up by the wings.

Cicadas spend majority of their life, waiting for the perfect time.

Everything’s going to plan.

The storms may rage and people will crack the cages they’ve been placed in.

The only thing true is change systems always slide into disarray.

Permanence is a fictitious slight of the human mind, why linger at the lackluster silo of eternity?

Feel you’re one, you and me to the body of humanity!

When you bleed, I cry when the bombs burn your bodies!

I wonder why I wasn’t placed where you were.

When all the trees die dismembered by weapons of mass destruction, I wonder why the place I went to have lunch in profits from your home being blown to bits.

Do you see how we’re connected?

What harms your environment in turn harms my environment!

It doesn’t matter how much institutions spend weighing down, the pockets of environmental scientist to lie about what kind of crisis were in.

Politicians lord over profits, to hoard the contents of their thievery.

Putting bodies of Black and Brown people on the line.

System’s cycle until forced to break.

There’s no need to recycle their, abusive structural violence, who I wish wouldn’t wake.

Some things must die.

Systems that coerce and restructure peoples lives aren’t the ones were willing to reshape.

I know I’m connected to the Earth, and know I’m connected to the Earth.

My body feels that chill, moments before any downpour, I feel the atmosphere will me to gear up for environmental change.

The Earth and our connection is interchangeably strange.

Guiding me, leading me directly on my way with out my input or say.

God leads the frightful into bountiful fields, showing the power that only God wields. I see it every day.

Witnessing the restlessness of a depressed society, whilst presently being in the happenings of my own own body.

The dichotomy hunts me. I feel I don’t deserve the change.

Why do I deserve to heal when many can’t say the same?

Morning, every night, I work to fight against my habits of disarray.

The one that rips me of connection, the one the lures me into field of depression, the one that profits off of oppression.

I work endlessly to rid myself of the violence I was born in.