Rumbling, the earth trembling;
melding my feet to it,
molten heat;
All the world’s passion
In one room, in one body,
Still shaaaakiiiing;
Morphing one previously childlike mind.
That which liquefies metal
Isn’t hot,
it’s beyond thermal capacity-
St. Helen’s simply sneezed;
During puberty.
There were warnings,
Don’t act so blinded by ash,
Littering just within reach of the magma cone,
Ash like grey snow flakes
if not ash it would be serene….quiet,
A first snowfall. But hard to breathe.
A once creamy epidermis,
Mottling the surrounds,
Emotions popping up, visibly on the surface
Panicked, parents scramble,
….. Should we connect the dots or make them go away?
Molten lava, fall out, run, don’t gather;
just run.
Childhood was yesterday.
The eruption of adulthood
Is supposed to clear away
Everything in its path?