In her stopping she moans at the strain,
Bucking frantically at the rages of storms,
The clash of fire and ice,
As mantle separates from core
And so many cower for dearth and life.
Then stillness reigns,
In countless minds wiped clean.
And when the red sands drift
Beneath the crystal waters sunlit swell,
You can see the geometry left behind.
It took a shift
To bring us here.
Just a poem to motivate myself to work on Hidden Isles. I’ve abandoned this manuscript for much too long. I find it far too easy to distract myself with other things. Really must stop that!