Boulder Hit By Waves
talons of water
worry a bared gut.
vultures of froth
hover to devour slow.
terra firma pilloried,
the condemned prone
white beaks,
an altar of basalt,
fate ensures
the audience knows,
that Primal Harm:
to invoke fire, forge rock,
of crawling, walking, hungry blood.
creation diverted,
neither brine nor abyss,
sin incarnate,
chained to volcanoes.
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Not a poem of resignation.
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