Fire at Our Home

".... forty five now,                                wet wholly, not drying, seems dying"  she uttered on the phone.

Birgunj, a jungle of cemented buildings unmanageably, thickly crowded where almost trees haven't been to allowed to reside, some were there, but thrown out of the city.....

and the scorching sun, the father of blaze of us

But it's not only here, the fire is on our whole home, the green loved one is burning.....

Who burnt the match, who poured petrol, hugely some of us, partly all of us: our hungry to consume blindly, recklessly 

We killed millions species and killing; we chopped forest and chopping still...

Here it's only forty five and dying like, what about there, where it's more than fifty 

Is "the mother nature" responsible or we ourselves.....

We've turned out home into graveyard, where we'll unburntly burn, go in mass sanity and the to the death....

What a place we've created, a brilliant gift to our generation and the next if survived we the longer.......

Increased crowd, dead greenery, spread industry, maddened in consumption, killed millions species, stinking desires....and produced green gases.....

A the gift is a burning home to live now.....

Now it's our choice.....

Either to burn or to concern.