The Olive Mountain. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Jerusalem shakes, a worried sound,
The Mount of Olives, ground unbound.

A crack appears, a line so deep,
While cameras zoom, secrets to keep.

Old words are read, of mountains torn,
A prophecy born, on this very morn.

Drones buzz around, a worried flight,
Pointing lasers in the fading light.

Is it the end, the prophets' call?
Or just the earth, about to fall?

The ground gives way, a shifting scene,
Belief and fear, waiting in between.

T.M.Solvang