Revered roots reaching,
Rejoicing in Her breath
Mossy cloaks held closely
Telling stories of the years —
Broken branches,
Crunched leaves,
Broken down are all Earth’s trees
Her Army's masses send
Crashing glasses,
Clashing ashes, at our feet
We make our mark on her,
For miles, near
Though so, quite often
Repeating the process
Do the trees ‘n creatures
Bear children here
Our Mother Earth slows,
Clearer
Her love drawing nearer
As her children, slaught in her arms
By fearful foes
Life and Death,
Earth's blended mess
Chaotic and so beautiful.
About the Creator
Trinity Lafromboise
An outspoken, not so broken pearl of a girl
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The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewartabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
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