The Search

We blast mountains from our vision To shape how things should be Punctured the sand with cold derision Power reigned with sudden glee And what now? Nothing in the caves Except blasted stones and gaping wounds Time frantic, raves At nothing midst the shadow of the ruins. The mountains bare Where we lost them, concentrated in dust Saw it disappear So vulnerable our destructible use of trust. Nothing in the sands Nothing in our hands Nothing in the rivers The petty law givers Are mingled with dunes that twirl and twirl The blind thought of what will end the world