Volcano

An island unto thyself.
In a sea of that swims and breaks with waves of discount.
You raise the flag on the mound.
That sword, you bring on down to me.
Yet I build a world around you.
Like a town on a volcano.
Climbing higher for a better view.
Yet a rumbling in the belly of the beast is heard.
Daily, I wait for black rain.
But hope for the sun to shine.
Yet the rumble can be assuaged.
As I climb to the lip and taste the lava.
Kissing your plume of red and dangerous fire.
On high, I can see the turrets of other kingdoms.
Their flags, bound and bright in the tropical sun.
Happy under the banner of the one.
Yet I remain, rooted to the hard cooled magma that is your soul.
Knowing the end, will have me buried like the people of Pompeii.
Frozen in time, in ecstatic pain and awe.

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Circles in the oil

The dark sky sways, undulating in that oily void.
Threatening storms, and to swallow me.
We move in motion, dancing across the dangerous divide.
Hoping not to fall. Hoping instead to fly.
Yet the golden dreams crumble to ash, and the sulphur seeps into our bones.
Laid waste across the terrain like cooling magma.
Did you prick your finger upon the wonderment?
Did you breathe in a new world design?
The lungs now get heavy with the tar of life.
Weighing down your soul until you shake into nothingness.
Black. All turns black as the sky shifts and salutes a new day of redundantment.
Our bones turn to chalk, and we write are names on the tombstones of tomorrow.
Erase. Re-write. Turn back the time to let in the light.
We all want our lonely little world.
To swim away from the one that’s drowning.
Let the pin prick breach and gape.
On a raft of a thousand reasons.
Allow the blood to cover a new imagination.
And suck the seed of dreams, to save yourself.