I’m looking through the clouds, far from my room

And counting the stars, while clouds are hiding the moon

I saw enough of the grasses and also the ground

I’ll be here soon, till the moon got found

I saw Arial roots and also the tree

Souls don’t die, but they could be free

My skin is young but the soul is old

The root seems strong and it can hold

The stars going to fall, into the black hole

The moon can’t see it anymore

You can’t see the moon, just a touch of gold

The star’s falling, my finger turned purple.

THE BANYAN TREE || Missouri Mercury

A lost soul with a lifelong existential crisis, I escape reality through painting, photography, and writing. Life feels like a film where I’m crafting my own script, flowing with uncertainty. Driven by deep curiosity, I crave to uncover the world's mysteries before my story concludes.