Can a universal law be made when the skies are divided?: A poem 

I wonder if my old wounds hurt 

more than the fresh ones 

I apply dignity and humour, 

like balms, on them 

I seldom cry 

I am no novice to pain 

Is the history of the universe to blame? 

I live with it, anyway, in this life’s stream 

I wonder what the sky would feel like 

if its flesh would be ripped 

and its heart taken out 

and its countless stars made to bleed 

I am burdened by a history  

of carnivores and herbivores 

playing a game of survival, as duty 

to the ones that surround us 

And worse, men who were slaughtered and offered to them 

Because even helplessness can make villains of us 

and pandering to evil makes us abject evil 

And I think, what are the universal laws of the land 

between us, that are made in the skies  

when the skies are all too divided