People are restless, lost in illusion,
Grieving a life of imagined luxury,
Blind to the quiet wounds they leave behind—
Hurting others without hesitation,
As if pain were not something that echoes.
They claim suffering as their only truth,
Reaching, grabbing, wanting more,
Forgetting kindness along the way,
Forgetting that others ache too.
Perhaps only fate can soften them,
A silent hand that makes them see—
Not through words, but consequence,
The weight of what they’ve given the world.
They sit with full plates before them,
Yet whisper, “I have nothing,”
Unaware of their abundance,
Unaware of their blindness.
Some lessons refuse gentle teaching,
They arrive only through storms,
Through the turning of karma’s wheel—
And maybe then,
They will finally unde
rstand.
— Jessy Jacob ❤️
