O Blessed Kalapana

"Kalapana fishing village laid west of Mount Pu'u O'o. Our home was behind the church that sat on an abutment tip that rose slightly higher. The lava poured from the east side of our home, covering it, and rose sixty feet above it and took out the rest of Kalapana Village," ... by the Poet. Oh great Mount Pu'u O'o, a new kingdom you artfully fuel to new souls known as 'Mature Hill,' most have blue eyes forever, my Hawaiian soul, my heart beats to another rule but 'ere 'forever', once hailed a flat ridge reach our skies 'ere the days of a learned youth, from eyes left to right commanding sides held lush greens and rocky spots until my left eye saw a puff of white smoke 'twas my first sight at home, in the fishing village of Kalapana, you an anthill was your drip on Earth, altering steam of white and grey no longer did it conceal your steady shape, I met, forever and a day, as we both grew up, notable I, but you astray 'neath Earth's stratum being active till sprout together where we manifested ourselves being wards of maturity and I, naught wholly bitter nor sweet, yet, held my own and nurtured only to watch my village grow to obscurity and betold from solemn whispers 'neath a gravel groan a past spoke, heed naught the naysayers, that say we don't walk, talk, see, hear, laugh, cry, or just tell stories of a past that doesn't walk, talk, see, hear, laugh, cry, be enabled to tell stories, for they did so, righteous glories for when they passed, we bid Aloha, buried in blessed grounds, but nay, I say nay, forever and a day, I say nay naught the village of Kalapana, after all, it's compressed it's for the best for that thing, it's naught living, and say with certain aloofness--it's naught breathing, it is dead. Kalapana is a fishing village, where fish get caught--they don't catch themselves, villagers walk, talk--the undead imagine all of that, indeed I'm impressed, naught calm? Was Kalapana fishing village ever blessed, I say naught. Mature Hill you fuel a new type of breeders of dot.coms.