Unhorsed by a Volcano

Below, the sea was peace.

The first rays reaching the peak

leaked light down slopes

into hidden homes of 

early pilgrims to the water,

greeting the day.

Above, the mouth, yawning steamy 

revealed a torment, sulphurous fury

an overheated spirit, 

far too long contained.

The morning slopped against the calm

an angry glob of molten lava 

evaporating tranquility

displacing energy

boiling the peace

clouds of steam obscured the light

carving into time some

rough hewn lifeless 

sharp edged weight, 

where nothing is forever.

The patient sea washes the stain 

for a thousand years.

 © Philip Knight 2018