By Cecilia Wynn

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Sometimes all our lives are spent dreading

One single moment, insignificant in the picture,

But all those years spent lightly treading

Pressurized build up to the Richter.

Til Fates fair work unwove and threading

Threw up flames as if from a lighter.

Crashing, burning, unweaving, all creating

Ash as flames were doused by a fire fighter.

As the ground shook and the earth, cleaving

Swallowed the speechless innocent, heaving 

Upwards to the surface, onlookers believing 

That the end had come. In truth, just grieving

Their unfulfilled tasks. Until they realized 

They were no longer fettered in pressurized

Zones with malnourished bodies and overcast skies.

They ran free, seeing after years of glazed-over eyes.

The laughter rolled and billowed as they grew wise

Enraptured as they learn their fear with them dies.

The laughter of good and evil known only after demise. ❧

*Picture not by me