Gaia

Image

i was wearing black so you could see me against the sky

Her coldest breath,
a gentle reminder:
Mother
always
calls the shots.
These
troublesome children
have become
far too big
for their britches.

Whatever it is,
needs to be
done;
Ice
Slime
and Entropy
are her bread,
her butter
no less
than
Blossoms
Waterfalls
and Rainbows.

The reeking rotten
parts of her heart,
complement
the glaciers and grass,
and the voice
of consumptive wind,
Music.

I don’t hear laughter
or mockery
or rage,
or feel it in
the bladed breeze,
the furious flurry.
Only,
this is
what is, and is,
and is.

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