A Symbol Of Beauty And Power Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

A perfect cone,
a painter's dream,
a flawless symmetry,
rising from the fertile plains.

Smoke, a delicate plume,
a whisper of the earth's deep breath,
a constant reminder,
of the fire that sleeps within,
a beauty laced with danger.

Legends woven,
around its slopes,
of lovers' quarrels,
of kings' fiery tears,
a story etched in ash and stone.

The sun, a golden eye,
catches the peak's sharp edge,
casting long shadows,
across the rice fields below,
a silent watchful presence.

Clouds, like restless spirits,
cling to its summit,
veiling and revealing,
the mountain's shifting face,
a dance of light and shadow.

Fertile soil, a paradox,
nourished by volcanic ash,
life springing from destruction,
a testament to resilience,
a fragile vibrant green.

Mayon, a silent sentinel,
a symbol of both beauty and power,
a reminder of the earth's raw force,
a perfect form,
holding a volatile heart.