Dark mountains form silhouettes
Against a painful sky
As the ground gasps fire and
Sounds fury and rage.
A broken door in the floor of the world
Screams wide open
And the panic in the center of the earth
Breaks free.
Oily haze burns the air
Smoke and grit dam the atmosphere
Like spattered paint.
The howl of the sunrise
Bursts through the mind
And the world turns orange to red.
I stand on a hilltop baring
teeth to the gale
In a wild beastly grimace of joy.
As the sound turns to pain
and the sky bleeds black,
I hold my hands out
to thick dark rain,
Bathed in firelight and
the blood of the sky,
I watch the world born again.
When I wake, the ashes
Still taste on my tongue
And my ears still ring with the screams.
Sweat stings my eyes and
Burns in my hair;
Which am I?
The dreamer or the dream?
(March 2011)