A light instrument flows, ink darkness; folded within
Flowers; a painless, healing, prescription of treatment
Such secure grounding, found; in glowing obsidian
Happiness; gives sharp antithesis of lifes oblivion
Tectonic; the plate layer produces a fiery quill of lament
A light instrument flows, ink darkness; folded within
Waving; a molten brush of colors, results cascadian
A surgeons gift; to be given, a unique scalpel of torment
Such secure grounding, found; in glowing obsidian
Emotional eruptions; give way to a physical custodian
Islands of hope; from a mind, of seas with dubious intent
A light instrument flows, ink darkness; folded within
Feelings so igneous; venting becomes it's guardian
A healing phase; melting purposely cooled stone indent
Such secure grounding, found; in glowing obsidian
A cinder cone; written to perform acts so tragedian
Dormant, till; the next event of this calderas' fulfillment
A light instrument flows, ink darkness; folded within
Such secure grounding, found; in glowing obsidian
With apocalyptic roar and the sound
Of the fifth angel’s trumpet, this star’s fall
From heaven collaps’d the volcanic north
Face, releasing in pyroclastic flow
Roiling, rumbling, demonic spirits,
Dwellers of the Abyss, vaporizing
Instantaneously man, deer and bird,
Blotting the sun, with roiling death’s ash clouds.
Today, this scene, once hosting Cascadian
Armageddon, now quiet, as the new
Heaven and earth reclaim sanctuary
Where thrush and grouse hide, deer and elk wander
Feeding ‘midst heather and lupine. Life does
Recover her tenuous hold on earth.
Written May 18, 2016, the 36th Anniversary of the eruption of Mount St. Helens
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