“Oh, Universe—Hear Our Pain”

Oh, Universe—Hear Our Pain At the break of dawn, when silence still blankets the sky and the earth has not yet fully awakened, I sit by my window and whisper to the Universe. I whisper not out of habit nor in vain, but out of desperate hope that somewhere, something divine is still listening. Oh, Universe—hear our pain. The world is spinning, but not as it once did. It spins now with heaviness, under the weight of grief, greed, and growing indifference. There was a time when we looked to the stars for guidance, when the moon’s phases held sacred meaning, and when the Earth’s soil was touched with reverence. Now, we tremble not in awe of creation but in fear of our own undoing. Every day, headlines echo with horror. Children vanish. Forests burn. Cities fall under ash and bombs. We scroll past images of lifeless bodies, displaced families, and starving eyes as if tragedy is now background noise. How did we get here? Oh, Universe—was it our arrogance? Was it when we began to se...