Where does the sun go after we sleep?
To places profound, in realms that are deep.

Pure light in the sky
makes everything bright,
present every morning,
a shadow at night.

Where does the moon go after we wake?
To magical lands, where dreams are not fake.

By comforting darkness,
each visit disguised,
an essence so pure,
an aura so prized.

Where does our soul go after we die?
To places beyond a wink and a sigh.

The ether awaits,
where wishes are made,
all wants can come true,
sad memories fade.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

Make a Change

Tranquilizing the inner beast,
transform every impossible.
Each insecurity retreats,
all actions held accountable.

Embrace my greatest enemy,
feeling good with my own person.
Erasing oil stains from the sea,
stopping trades of gold for poisons.

No clouds of smoke floating above,
nor erased flora and fauna.
No abuse towards natures love,
nor winters as warm as saunas.

Finding an oysters without pearls,
exchange all weapons for a life.
Withering greens bloom in this world,
spraying foods with pesticides.

Most mistakes do not fix themselves,
lead by example, start today.
Mind, hearts, and hands can slowly delve,
till everyone finds their own way.

Try to listen and take a stand,
while executing a new plan.
Try to help others understand,
progress is held within all hands.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Nature’s Guard

The ocean spits regrets,
so faint no one could hear,
a coast with so much depth,
absorbing salty tears.

Gray clouds cry and lament,
sadness writes on the sand.
Cold raindrops represent,
emotions hearts have banned

Swim across the waters,
migrating towards luck,
blessing every quarter,
where harmful lightning struck.

Form a revolution
lead by golden sunshine,
swords made of rose bushes,
armies of butterflies.

Greeting a brighter dawn,
impure acts laid to rest,
conquest lines that are drawn,
fighting for every breath.

Nature does her duty,
pollution is refrained.
Earth aims to save her beauty,
though time will not remain.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Angelic Tears

When an angel cries,
raindrops hit a village,
frustrations and sighs,
transform into privilege.

Nurturing the land,
allowing full bloom,
warm sunlight expands
full bright rainbow hues.

When an angel cries,
tears fall upon steeples,
blessings flutter high,
guiding aimless people.

Prayers touch the sky,
caressing the stars.
Wipes sadness from eyes,
removing old scars.

When an angel cries,
showers drench the jungle.
For each tree that dies,
and for natures struggles.

Agonizing tears,
not meant to destroy.
At times carry cheers,
along with great joy.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

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