The Earth Dances

I live in a land
with such beautiful flowers
that spring forth in great torrents
to meet the sunrise.

With rivers that trickle
and children that bubble over with laughter
as they run, chasing fireflies
in the warm dusk.

The people, they gather
in great cities of metal
to gnash out their living
amidst gray concrete.
Such cool hard stone
the noise and pollution.

But the cheery bright streets
light the way of the fathers
who wander home wearily.
They go back to their houses
to play with their children
before starting again
the next morning.

The strong farming people
who work the good earth
hang up their tools
and bless the good weather.
Their sweat is the lifeblood
of the country we thrive in.

And then the earth dances
which shakes the tall mountains
and stirs up the ocean
which spits up with rage.
Mighty wet waves race through the wide streets
and tackle the houses
without mercy.

Trees wave their branches,
frantically floundering
tops swaying in rhythm
like watchtower soldiers
altering the people of approaching evil.

But the antics soon stop
and the ground quiets down,
falling into a slumber
under cities and towns.
Children run from the arms
of their terrified mothers
to skip like small pixies,
spinning ’round and around.

Yet again the earth dances,
uncontrollable spasms
to an unwelcome melody
and an unwanted song-
a concert no one attended
lyrics misunderstood
only tears and raised voices
throughout the lands

The good people mourn
as she throws them around
mothers clutching their children
as the walls all come down.
The streets break to pieces
trees ripped from their roots
and swept away swiftly
by the thundering torrent.

Born from the ocean
the fires are hungry-
little imps that devour
the houses alive,
as they sit like small islands
amidst a rainbow of waste
which was what had become
of a small lively town.

The earth stopped her dancing
to look at black waters
swirling back and forth gently
far into the distance.

The people came out
with their tools and strong spirits
to clear out the chaos
forced into their lives.

As the earth keeps on dancing
to a song in her head.
The people sing back
in a chorus, it’s said:
“We are not broken
we will carry on
we will not break
as we wait for the dawn.”

Showing their petals
like deathless dandelions
they spring up like armies
and reclaim the land.
Bending like willows
standing tall like the oak,
that’s the beauty of people
and the power of hope.