All those years of emptiness, a tomb;
inside – gestating such violent dreams,
coalesced into form, condensed, collapsed,
and unleashed ever more as tortured screams.

Calling out across an uncaring void,
to cull the ambitions of lesser forms –
ignite the dark expanse with fire unseen
and raucous solar storms.

A bold pearl is suspended within eternity,
a mote of dust that trembles as it falls,
the ceaseless waves of horror crashing,
impressing their desperation against its walls.

The tiny planet steels itself with hard mountains,
calms itself with vast sanctuaries of ocean,
and soon suffers the anguish as a comfort;
finding growth in the soil of those emotions.

Life then finds purchase after eons of false starts.
It rises, one rung at a time, until it thrives,
standing astride the eternal fires and bear witness,
to the struggle of existence, and survive.

The pearl is set aside for ideas to take their place,
the sound of suffering out amongst the stars
muted by the growing transitive bustle
of wagons, ships, planes and cars.

But the screaming never stops,
the oceans secret the agony away,
holding it in as long as they can,
until met with cooler days,

When contemplative rain falls like bricks,
confident in an end the earth can easily dissolve,
but is met with Discordia’s ancient anger,
and the horrors of time forgotten and unresolved.

With terror, precipitation rises as a squall,
to retreat from the known and unknown,
evading the languid web of fatalism,
rather than become another sterile seed sewn,

The exchange of current and course accelerate,
until the violent motion is more than function,
birthing a determined prophet of intent;
Helios’ blind messiah of destruction,

lumbering towards a pregnant shore,
where years of engineered fertility,
could only now germinate malevolence,
sprouting anxiety, poverty, vulnerability.

The maw of the storm stretches for miles,
carrying with it a spiteful inevitability,
amid the storm’s callous consumption,
solace nestles in life’s tragic tranquility.