The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Saturday 15 April 2017

The Beauty in Catastrophe

There's too much world to see
A vast collage of deserts, plains,
 forests, mountains, and sea
A gallery cannot hang a tsunami
 or a hurricane quite properly
Nor does National Geographic adequately
Capture the roar and fear soaking
 feeling of a lion's natural royalty
The world is too much to see
A shower of volcanic love is not
 an experience for you or me
A fault line dance shakes
the mood with rock too precariously
Never can we truly be
 as deep as the depths of the sea
There's too much pressure to see
 the beauty in catastrophe.