Mother Earth vehemently shakes.
A seraphic glow outlines and beacons to
The twisting stone pedestal blossoming on the horizon.
Listen to an aesthetic beginning
Of endless drums heard around the world.
Sonic radiated surge leaks from the base,
Blasting the ground into torrid dust,
Dispersing and swallowing the line of horizon
Close your eyes or keep them wide.
It is what you wish before The End.
Blades of flame wrap around the smoke geyser,
Stabbing skyward, scorching clouds to a falling ash.
When the fiery vortex loses momentum,
It stalls in thin air,
Puffing out like a mega firework.
A catastrophic slut letting her hair down for us.
And we are fucked.
Another geyser ruptures from the bulb of the first.
The drums intensify.
This one desires to reach space.
It gathers a malignant pall from the lower,
Evoking a flaring heart within to beat; a small sun.
Smell the hint of hot metal in the air.
I am goose-fleshed and manic.
A thick, ring of smoke discharges from the second bulb,
Beyond the sight of eye.
An ebony vulture soars along the edge of space,
Erasing clouds behind blue.
And there goes the sun.
Slowly it dissolves into the atmosphere while
Temperatures drop and heavy winds thrust the metallic air
Into your lungs.
I force my eyes away from The Tree of Death,