Timothy W. T. Belin
You watch as heavens start to cry,
Their torrid tears descend in scores
From clouds invading once bright skies
To paint new shadows ‘cross the shores.
You feel the winds from lands unknown
That blow away all hopes of life
As grounds disperse their fiery stone
And cause your kin incessant strife.
It’s Mother Nature raising hell
To raze the human race with rage;
Oft prophesied, here comes the knell
Of what you thought Earth’s golden age.
The oceans rise with famished waves,
The mountains vanish in the seas,
Transforming cities into graves,
Erasing selfish centuries.
Within this wicked plight you stand
As all in instants turns to rust
And wonder whether works of Man
Were really only specks of dust.
Fall, 2019 Issue