Monday, June 21, 2010
A fierce dawn rises in the east,
Though the sun itself is setting.
Billowing clouds, black above
But brilliant beneath
Pour across the fields and lift
Into the limitless prairie sky.
The roaring sound of death, a furnace wind
Sweeps across the plain,
Leaving behind it nothing
But birth in the dark, scorched earth.
New life rising from the ashes,
Forced into existence by the flames.