Touching the shore of Eve’s wild island
Is a ship whose horn quivers the landscape
The midday sun sends the molten metal
Into the shallow depths of the sea
Waves are lapping rhythmically
As if to cool the crimson shore
Instead they build up constructively
Alas, the physics had some prophecy
The rise and fall is calling a forgotten storm
At first a whisper, and then a scream
A pulse propagates and flings the ship
Unto a peak, so violently it flattens
Trees into fields that stretch and fold
For miles and boundaries untold
Until a calm soft breeze takes over
From above, it sends the fire down below
To keep the Mother warm where there
Is but darkness to keep the ignorant blind
And the passionate safe © Sinsong

By Ava S.