Spiral of iron, blinded eye. The rage
and the cold and the colossus sing.
Thunderous ghosts tread the wheat and the rye, ageless
these torrents and the ire they bring.
Calamity drifting, flood in the sky. The storm,
the storm will unmake you and me.
Lost to the water, strangled. Soaked.
Bones are the feast for the roots of the trees.
Cities extinguished, the stars burn alone, beyond
sight, beyond reach. The tempests play:
drown the mountains, the temples, the stories, the songs.
The water is rising, our verge is a wave.
Not usually one for rhyming poetry. Hope you enjoy!
