Geothermal War Sirened By the Success of the Savage Destruction

There is a beckoning toward the reckoning. I am still, but my heart speaks volumes about the turbulent nature of what is the ultimate Godly order. I reach, as a small child, for the hand of Kayne and Job simultaneaously. The beauty of the forest is eclipsed by the nature of the beast. I hear a call that is really a cry in the night for me to wake and answer the chaotic strains of moonbeams in Chili today. I relate to the volcanic ash and cry when I see the morbid sights of ecological war. Sobbing is not in my being today, but I do face the water and bid adieu. Just know that my heart is tsunami in the midst of a hurricane, something that is never to be. I place my feet in the cool stream and love all that the babbling has to say to me.