Author: redcod323 PM
When the towers fall and the soil is rich and black, we will see our feet becoming trees, and our toes curling down like roots, our spirits branching out with leaves and thoughts and feelings in this bright, strange new world. Comments appreciated.Rated: Fiction T - English - Spiritual - Words: 104 - Published: 04-12-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2795989
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The numbered crows come down like angels,
when the mountain's blood deepens from
red, to purple. Then to blue and green
as a man's hubris embraces the earth
(but the Earth pushes him back).
The four horsemen of the apocalypse
wear yellow coats, and hold up a light.
By this temporal lamp we view beyond
--beyond the world's end; beyond "time"
(it is not a bad land, but a hard one).
Sweet turnips in the garden, underfoot
below the green mountains, the horsemen
hoofprints in the loam. The titanic
economy and the megalith skyscrapers fall
(and nourish the soil, fertilizing dreams)