Revelations

With ear to the ground I felt a slight tremble, like the stir of a whispering breeze breaking its covenant of silence. Stoically solemn hills partially cloaked in roaming shadows, the sun swiftly swimming, across the edges of dawn. Large crackling trunks, with gnarled limbs pointedly misshapen, standing huddled, accusingly transfixed against a backdrop of mangled silver. Clouds growing grimmer shades of pale, as they swell with sadness, to hang forlornly upon realization’s icy horizon. While glass houses of man’s dreams, reflect the barrenness of fruition, acid tears bleaching clarity; Leaving hazy mists for humans to draw lines of denial, with fingers of blame. And nature is naught but empty ark, grounded upon the shores of our wasteland. For we greedily drank the waters of her womb, swallowing whole the seeds of needed fertility. Now a fruitless humanity remains, spitting only salt, into her infinitely gaping wounds.