Volcano Iceland (Eyjafjallajökull)

Earth gyrating, rolling and splitting

Fiery tongues spitting, hurling rocks

Unleashing fury. Beauty unexpected

A volcano erupts. A poem is born

Shafts of lava shooting like spears

The sky fills with red ash, smoke and intensity

The indigo blue mingles with the dark black

The golden orange and majestic purple

Even the soot dazzles

It’s either an inferno or a vision of glory displaying colors of paradise

The magnificent so monstrous, instant with lasting earthmarks

I could pay a million dollars to frame the pictures in my head

Permanent tattoos.

At last I’ve seen images that beat the sunsets in Arizona, in Africa,

And the sunrise in tropical lands

A king passing, a goddess declaring I’m here once more

In a while you’ll see me dormant, then dominant

A hundred, a thousand years my appearances make no mistake

We bow. Cancel flights, stay our eyes on the heavenly-hellish

The poetry compelling us not to mourn but adore.

The fusion is divine; the heat, the steam, the sensation

The lava river spirals up and downwards

Painting varying shades on its way

I want to play there, dance on new boulders, test the foundation,

The magic in my eyes,

But I’d be easy toast

The cone shapes that finally appear, striped, tanned and tone

Make me reach for an ice cream.

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