Born In the Thermals
What is born in the thermals of a barren land
A spiral of destruction sublime
(I feel its power seeping into the ground)
Across the seas, it comes with fury
With no conscious thought, it gives to its wake
It can feel no sorrow as lives are at stake
No other peril of divinity, the instrument of a
Geo-thermal machine a perfect design
Leagues in size, all-seeing eye, arms hold thunder
In dark clouds hold lighting watching...
Watching it lance, the broken plains. It claims the spoils.
(The deconstruction of man-making is in its mind)
The plundering of the Apes' riches
As a coil of power pulls tighter
A Hand clutches the invisible
Like the gods of antiquity fighting a holy war
In heavenly realms; up high
The clouds fly, see the flickering
Once a war of nature ravaged this land of my mine
Now comes the braking of that peace
Whaling of Lands and Wind
I stand to defend this land of mine
With nothing but my hands and time
(I tie down everything to keep it with me, my only company)
The fury comes,
I pray to a god of cold stars,
That I will survive
This destruction of land and man
To live to see another day,
The power of wind-born in a desolate age,
A spiral of wicked filigree, liquid pain,
I wonder, I see no end in this primal rage,
I ponder its birth plains. This eternal wrath!
(This Hurricane…)
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2022
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