Catastrophe

Catastrophe

This land of mountains high,

Rivers deep and cold

Formed by volcanoes, earthquakes

Violence and storm

Such beauty arising from the ashes

Such green grandeur

From the dark of the black

So what is to come of this drought

What is to come of the quake

The shaking of all our foundations

This threat to the heart of all life

What is to come of it?

A far greater beauty

Maybe a miracle of such great unknown

That few of us ever know

What really did happen

As we tend our gardens in peace and hope and love

 

catastrophe

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