We offer our wells
To someone who’s not thirsty
We shower our clouds
On someone who is either flooding with abundance
Or has forgotten what rain feels like
And thus refrains themselves
Someone who didn’t wish or demand
We empty our treasures
On the wealthy gardener
Blooming with fragrance
Or has just dried grasses in all the corners
Thus hurting ourselves through the route
Not acknowledging the indifference of intersections
Sometimes the gardener asks
How is the plant doing
After he refrained from watering it
Resulting in his vegetative state
Sometimes he behaves extremely innocent
and Calls name and follows the supply
After its being stopped and asked to return
It questions the bond
After saying don’t tag this
Let it remain nameless
And we leave our parts in them
Knowing it’s not gonna be valued
Foolishly we keep digging deeper
Where the gardener says
I won’t let people fall
Making ourselves look
Thirsty, flooded and empty
7th November 2022
1:43pm
The Letters I Write to You 