From the Ashes

From the Ashes

The ground shakes and quakes with tremors,
The needles shiver within their orbs,
Hot molten makes stone swell, crack, wreck,
And the sky is shuttered, turns red-black.

There’s an explosion. A Gasp.
Fire.
It lights up the sky.
It burns up the moon,
and the tides change their minds.

My eyes fly open.
Snow.
Black softness.
Little pieces of you flutter and cover pools of red.

A soft grayness comes, seals all in.
You brush it away, dig a hole,
Plant a kiss,
it will grow.

Soon pools of green, trees tall and thick,
Sundrenched flowers that crowd towards the mountain’s heat.
The world will recover.
And you will come again.