There was a man,
Perhaps a wizard or some kind of fae,
Whose blood ran with lava and waves,
And whose voice was typhoons and sandstorms,
He had a face like a craggy bluff,
And his eyes shifted with the seasons,
He would roam like a glacier one cycle,
And a tsunami the next,

As the masses are wont to do,
Plebs would strike him with human issues,
Pebbles dropped in his waters en masse,
He’d snap back with flames,
A conflagration from his charred tongue,
A storm of lightning and pointed flurries,
As if the elements were beholden to man,
Just another tool,

His temperament was as changeable as clouds,
Full of biting rain one moment,
And an easing sky the next,
He was erosion and draft,
He was the bushfire and the oasis,
He had seen whole worlds life,
He was the elements four,
Submissive only to time.

  1. jai says:

    Your poem overflows with imagery. Lovely…💜

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