Tectonic plates crisscross
the sky dark morning
with light patterns of
slice-lightning...
grumbling, rumbling
deep, fathoms up, up,
up...
tearing clouds apart,
then shoving them together
in crashes, building,
coalescing new sky
with magma colors,
red, red, red,
peeking oranges,
disappearing faster than
their birth.
Heated rain from drowning
clouds' plate shiftings.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow
the sky will once more
be
Pangea.
What strange new beings
will walk
this time?
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