Rain turned to ice,and lightning splintered, it splicedthe black sky, it seeped a bright white.All animals they fled,from the sky as it bled,pale death that fell veiling the night.
...my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow...
A Familiar Rain
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...my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow...
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Wrath crawled out from the well,on direction from Hell,to get back what it once lost.With vengeance in mind,it set out to find,a specified soul to accost.When the Hell-well beckoned,Mother__ will now reckoned,her dead soul now wholly enslaved.Embodied in a rotting husk,the corpse reeked of putrid musk,her being wholly depraved.
For a moment, she thought it natural in a way seeing a plane fall from the sky can seem natural, too. The horror comes later.
If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.
Our relatedness with other living forms provides us something we sorely need: a reverence for the life of all creatures great and small, and an expanded view of our place in nature__ot as rulers over it, but as participants in it.
Growth of consciousness does not depend on the might of the intellect but on the conviction of the heart.