We measure space as the distance between two objects;
destinations, travel time, our indecisive minds.
In the middle exists inertia’s shelved life –
TV screens and celebrity magazines
injecting the senses with anti-ageing regimes
till every self-love drugs test comes back clean.
When did we turn numb to natural beauty,
who decided we are done with the inbetween?
This Earth is crying for our attention
neglected more as years pass by,
it broke the sky to give us thunder and lightening
but we all just stayed inside, texting loved ones
with apologies for the minutes we had been away
and blaming the storm for poor phone signal.
We think this planet owes us a cloudless day
like it hasn’t already sacrificed its riches;
how could the rain be so selfish?