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Cry-O-Volcanoes


Volcano eruption forces closure of Iceland airspace

Oh! Cry your magma! Eject your lava, I’ve better things to come than your shattered escape. Your sky of soil can’t sway the vow locked inside of me; the bend of my tectonic pate, a brow of coiled wishes oozing forth, whispering of a serenity and crimson Love. Congregating with humanity, diverging from what’s old, newly honoring the earth, escaping the scabs of battle, my plumes of affection erupt across rifts of doubt, spoke I.
Howl allegiance with the mountain and the tree, sing the universe with praise and burst forth your care, divide them among my brethren of blood and affection that waits on a merry Love.

Remember the eruption when it flees my torrid mouth. Hold off any deceit that gushes like magma from you, instead, join with the surface calling out for kindness, spoke the coiled prayer.

These tall rifts speaking in a natural dialogue cry their speech in a familiar tongue of unspoken language stirring the truth of me; animal first, love second, spirit, kinship and affection blending into the scaffolds of horizon. Oh! Cry out thy speech atop heaven, expel thy molten coil! I’ve better things to commit to memory than my escape, spoke I.


© 2011 by mark prime


Cryovolcanoes


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