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 there
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.
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