I
We do not see the volcano
In the Garden of Eden,
But it is always there.
II
I have been to the
Volcano, as have
You.
III
Sometimes the volcano
Comes to us, its candent
Orange fury our punishment.
IV
Or is it our reward:
Its cruelest magma
Birthing richest soil?
V
There is beauty in its merciless
Path:
Feral, as in causing death;
Fertile, as in bearing life.
VI
I fear its power.
It betrays us all.
VII
Who among us
Is not betrayed?
Has not betrayed, as well?
Volcanoes themselves
Are ducts
For the Earth’s tears,
Kepler cried.
VIII
If we live at the edge
Of the volcano,
Will we not be
Destroyed?
IX
When we bring our cup of betrayals
To its seething core, what do we destroy?
X
Where molten lava
Has cooled,
New growth blossoms.
XI
It is your Book of Blossoms,
Attentive to nuance not yet known,
the world needs to see.
XII
Sing the Beauty,
And not the Betrayal.
XIII
Even if eruption is nigh.