The dirt and the sage crept up to the porch,
And the baby pines in the distance grew up to be quite large,
But me I stayed where I couldn’t be found
Till the earth trembled, and the mountain became a gorge.
The sirens blared,
And the townsfolk cried to the sky,
“Save us oh lord.”
The prophets trembled when they too were surprised.
The strangeness of nothing
The absence of sound
Was all around and around and around
We found that nothing could grow on our plot,
The 30-acre world we were so proud to have bought.
The night skies seemed cruel in summer,
With no rain clouds to bless our land under.
And all was the same until the day it all ended.
Grandpa was yelling something about sinners.
The day after it happened, our land turned to jungle.
A desert oasis sprung out of the fissure
That was created by the quake that split our pasture
I must have been sleepwalking,
When I found myself alone in the new forest
That sprung out of the fissure
That was created by the quake that split our pasture.
I wandered through the brush until I found a stream,
That I followed for hours to find my home.
I came to a hill, where I could see for miles
The desolate country once so green and mild.
Now nothing moved, and the landscape was flat
And the buildings I loathed were nowhere to be found.
So I made it my wish to explore these new wonders,
And made my way down to where the mountains had tumbled.
The ditches where streams once flowed to the ocean
Were empty and dry and devoid of any motion.
So I followed the washes for miles and days.
To the end of the world as the stories would say.
The oceans were dry, that once were wet.
Then the cliff I was on, crumbled and fell
I knew that the fall would be to my death.