Everything fades into the farthest reaches, there is only my eyes and what they’ve focused upon. The horizon expands, I am a witness to the birth of a mountain. It rises before my eyes, as if it were made for me.
The rigid edge clashes against the smooth morning blues and the approaching sun retaliates, springing forth splashes of pink and orange like sweet candy flames. The newborn mountain pays no mind to the empty attempts of the apathetic dawn. It seems to call to me, to tell me that it is our turn now, finally.
I’m more aligned with the dawn–things rarely feel final.
The rigid way of the mountain creases itself and completes the peak, as if it’s following my lead. The other side falls, quickly, creating a smoother slope. Perhaps the mountain knows the return trip always seems to pass quicker. The difference between chopping wood and buttering toast.
I feel a change… or is it fear?
The rigid is assaulted, becoming more so and then–light. The mountain explodes from the center, out. It’s an enormous flash that erases everything into orange then fading into pale yellow, until the white takes over. I’m blind. Or is the dream simply over?
Rising out of the depths of me, as if the blindness is the human equivalent of a shuffle button, I feel something. It’s smooth and round, my hand grips it with my fingers wrapping around. My wrist turns and I understand what it is. I open the door…
A disease, terminally touched down
Wildfires forcing the fleeing of
wildlife unto the uncharted
From seeds into full-fledged trees
Overflowing forests causing confusion, preventing the singing
from flocks of varying birds,
now overwhelmed like the undertow of the distant ocean
Unable to pick a tree, to find a branch
How can anyone expect them to pick a song to sing today?
The sounds of their fluttering wings, tree to tree
and branch to branch
It is all lost in the breeze and the swaying
trees seem to mock them
Watch as the worried looks appear
within the thick outer skin of these trees
What if the birds start singing and bring forth
the buzz saws or the match strikes?
Their bark begins to howl out of their unwarranted worry and sorrow
They are mourning what still lives
They are mourning what still exists
There are no signs of anything different coming
There are no intruding or deafening footsteps
Safety surrounds these towers
but why can they not see?
Is it possible they smell the stench
flowing from the fluttering wings?
Standing firm while bleeding and barely breathing
The creators of oxygen are struggling
Or are they?
But who are they?
It can’t be only trees blowing in the breeze
Shaking before a sneeze
There is a haunting disease
Like the buzzing of bees
Complete with a physical sting
Making nothing into something
Say hello and scream goodbye
Bring it down and leave it high
The only option left is to try
and keep trying,
it’s passing, it is dying
Yes it is dying!
That which soothes falls
from the sky.
Drenched in disdain
Wash away everything
Do you feel the strength
Carry the weak,
Collapsed and broken
No guidance in the sky
Only threatening flashes
A display of dominance
Sounds of power.
I am sorry
Sorry for the blind
We remain clueless
Oblivious to the lessons
You strike down
Hammer us with.
Hours pass into days
Surrounded by devastation
Only a passing moment
Do we mourn, pray
Then revert back into
I am sorry
I am not able to
Can change even come to be?
One body One voice
We are a focused breed
Focused on selfish desires
No exception here
I am guilty.
You have disrupted
Shook the foundation
Nothing will change
Though I fail to see
Fail to see a reset
Will bring a different result
Will remain flawed
A home built on imperfection
Will be imperfect
Is HOPE worth anything
When the truth is
Isn’t hope the same as denial?