deepundergroundpoetry.com

Easel of the Shades

Satan�s flies circumnavigate and penetrate�
a constant work of unplanned mischief.
They are rare to plant themselves at once,
but being many, their effect is sown. Twisted.

Twisted, those parts of life�malicious decay,
soaring lines of wickedness that lead the fray�
are so integral. Paining young philosophers
err at gripping the reality of this fear.

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Rumbles roll, and tumble. Trip the hills
and ranges and fall to soft the valleys.
Fill the pasture; wet the lips of common ilk.
Frightening! Fire dives the blotted sky.

Beetles hide to the heat and the hooves,
scent and sound urging animals� nature.
A sheepdog-like phoenix, guided by the winds,
turns crimson underneath the azure.
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Comprehension is stirred by adversity;
knowing ones world is never easy.
By inner strength, dark chasms may aid
if allowed, and afford to great ends.

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Melting from the heavens, blackened plains
are lighted. Acrid smoke wisps ascend.
Fauna shall joy to embrace new terrain;
mother will grow, once more and again.