People start to sing
Tracing the morning with her finger
Magic circles in a field once inhabited
By water
I am frightened by the sound of thunder
Mountains move closer to the city to find excitement
Sheila raises her glass to the composer
Who worries about retribution from a jealous god
Getting together to form a society
Brittle bones crack with an enviable sigh
Twisted wreckage of the tornado gone by
Flashing gold teeth and subtle innuendo
Cantilevered I stand over the river
Sheer forces propel the inevitable future
Structures crumble around this holy place
Leaving in ruins timelines unwritten
Leaving the future unstuck in memory
Seeking to define uncertainty
Free of the outcomes left for man to write
Nature seeks to restore a sense of balance.
People start to sing
Evening light reflected in pools of remorse
The exodus begins
Quiet whispers of a new dawn.
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