• A golden lotus erupts in the garden of the locust.
    Tears like liquid silver falling upon the petals.
    The malodorous haze,
    The miasma in the wind.
    Death rasping like steel against steel.

    The copper tinge of the fading sunset,
    The shrill shriek of crow caw,
    All calling me back.
    When the wicked wind like knives buried in the backs of star crossed lovers,
    Breaks upon poor unsuspecting souls.

    All trapped within the kaleidoscope of life.
    Ever changing,
    The colors vibrant to the senses
    Like metal.

    The taste of the wind in your mouth.
    The utter surrender to the elements,
    Uncontrollable
    Unpredictable
    As the raw materials being forged beneath the earth.