The trees sway in the same way as yesterday.
The flowers bloom in the same way as yesterday.
Then why is the sun mad with fire?
Then why is the moon pokerfaced, as if its smile has been erased?
The earth still spins, with the same exact speed.
The jelous still cry, with the same exact greed.
Then why is the wind moaning with saddness?
Then why is the spoken kept quiet and speechless?