WHEN the WIND BITES
With the countryside in flames
We wonder what godly games
Provoked such Vulcan retribution?
Would sacrifice be the solution?
When waters cavort and churn
They smoke, whirl and turn
As a new island is birthed.
Is Neptune’s ocean angered?
On a cold winter’s day
Wrapped to keep cold at bay
The wind bites through all layers,
From the North the god Boreas?
Or was it Eurus wind god of East?
Not some frozen breathing beast,
But maybe a gift of new beginnings
As each dawn brings Sun’s own risings.
Where is your faith? Not superstition!
Please leave that at the train station.
Faith not in gods, but in humankind:
To which nothing responds in kind?
Our home is a planet whirling in space
Look in the mirror, look in your face!
Everything you do has its place,
Our effect is known as commonplace.
From without and within Earth responds
From us, the Sun and inner molten ponds
The Source is not the cause nor the effect
Every planet has its individual aspect.
The way we act adds a short and longer plot
Did you think that what we did mattered not?
Mine this and that and leave the vacant mess
Where on Earth is our wisdom and our holiness?
Did we all suffer amnesia and forget
Did the wind teach us nothing and yet?
We still feel the cold and its colder bite.
So is it too late to put everything right?
© David Tenneson 2015.