The red formations
contour to my heart;
my thoughts spin from the
relentless
storm. The tempest of millions.
Desperate for truth
to spill
from the
disillusioned. Ahead of time.
Lessons to be learned.
The seconds become precious
as we cling to the final
reckoning of hope; a pipe dream that is
fleeting. Change. The amenable stand
at the helm; howling at the blood moon
with our feral kinfolk.
For our earth, for the living
The end of wild
will cease
to the forswearing
of it’s people.

{Earth lamentations}