12/8/11

The earth is angry 'neath it's shifting soil,

It's heat is seeping through rough broken seams,

Releasing clashing forces long embroiled,

In elemental pressures, belching steam.

The billowing of gasses to the sky,

Will tell us of a fury forged below.

The passions of creation never die,

And shall provide a shrine where we might go,

To be reminded of our fragile place,

Where, for the moment, we're allowed to be,

And live upon this skin by nature's grace,

As masters, only of fortuity.