Sleeping volcano's wake, weeping,
their burning tears falling like rain,
into turbulent oceans, then seeping,
down rock faces, scarring and creeping,
while searing winds howl out in pain.
All life on this planet is now gone,
the sun's almost black in the sky,
what had we, the human race, done?,
not enough, when God gave us his son,
if he could, surely, he would ask, why?.
this poem was written for the Paula Swanson