Emerald Skies Poem by Stuart Logan

The skies burn a lightning green,
Like the sun is shining through an emerald.
It shadows the earth with a pallid hue,
The grass camoflauges with the ocean,
and the birds cry.
The Sacrosanct fury of an unknown god,
standing before man,
His wrath passes down upon the already parched ground,
Like a magnifying glass on an ant.
He burns brightly in the sky, with his well-won blue tinge,
and he weeps at what he has done.
For a beautiful world now lay in ruins.
Nothing but dry earth and dead plants,
That scatter the landscape,
As a dormant corpse.
The god rests, leaving the destroyed world to the gentle goddess.
With her calming touch,
The obliterated earth is frozen,
It will be no worse,
yet will never get better.
It is dead.
And the only thing that remains the same,
Are the Emerald skies.

'No matter how strange the world is. There is always something stranger.'
S, Logan-10/9/08