PBS Documentary: Volcanoes
Red lava flows from fire-breathing beasts
While ashes bury mouths, gasping for air.
Remote clutched close, I stare at each deceased
And blink my stinging eyes in silent prayer.
Frail skeletons collapse, in crumbling heaps
While burnt-winged corpses try to fly away.
The roaring flames contrast with peaceful sleep
And God admires destruction of the day.
The wrath of Mother Nature misses none—
I’m choking on the imminence of death.
My eyes fix on the screen’s black clouds above;
Tomorrow they could end my frantic breaths.
But, one green arrow rises from the earth;
All sin’s been purged—the sprout begins rebirth.
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