The Eye of the Tempest

Sapient hammers thunders the solstice flame,

Faery vales waltzing in the soiree saturnalia;

Trolls and Wizards who cast the wonted Moon Calf,

Vacuous beams of the rising dawn on the shale clime,

The wilting honey lily in the lustrous morn.

And what banshee whisper echoes through the world?

Banging on the doors of Cain’s sons and daughters of the 21^st.

An indomitable mountain scaling the azurian hemisphere,

All the consumed and yet to come,

A precipice of babble and toils of babbling humanity;

So it grows and flows and blows,

A presage to when that night falls,

When the eclipse furls its odious shadows across the cardinal points,

And the Eye of the Tempest wakes at last.