tsunami

Sometimes the world smiles so brightly that one would never believe it is fallen. If one were willing to entertain such an idea, he wonders at the splendor before the fall. But when fallen beauty is all that’s known, it is difficult to imagine that there is anything more beautiful than has been experienced.

Sometimes the world groans so loudly that even under blue skies and colored clouds, its aching heart is felt by all but the most insular. Under gray skies and black clouds, all hope seems lost, and history is but a few days deep, and there are no other memories from which to draw solace.

Sometimes tiny black clouds hang in the royal atmosphere over tiny, gray islands in the azure sea. The world thinks all is well, and the island wonders why it is desert and forgotten and left out of the blue.

Sometimes the whole world is engulfed, save a tiny break through which crepuscular angel faces shine warmth upon a tiny, undeserving surface.

The world spins, moans.
Smiles.
Groans, in all its beauty, at the surpassing beauty that can’t be.
Gives thanks in all its pain at the surpassing pain from which it is spared.
Friction.
Tectonic crashes.
Faults and blame.
False blame.
Clash of principalities.
Innocence punished and guilt rewarded.
Confusion.
How long to sing this song?
Who listens?
I’ll keep singing.
I'll be heard.
I’ll wait.