Future Volcano
Poem about the Unseen
The mountain is mighty, the mountain is here. Sprung up from ground, engulfing skyscrapers, but no one can see it yet, only the birds change their paths.
Its electric colors burn the sky, its peak tunes in for signals from the stars. Eighteen acres wide and forty deep, this range blasts through the sand and water, brings with it fire from far beneath where tread the human feet and speak the human deeds.
That fire is purple and unknown to all our sciences. It whistles as it drifts through amethyst mines, glowing as it passes by crystal bears and cave rats, till it funnels to the top of mount entropy and releases a tune, smoke as loud as rainbows, illuminating the sky with the darkness of unmet shadows.
There’s a boundary being drawn between two styles: two styles of living, two styles of dying, two styles of knowing what we are and what we’re here to do. Everyone is drifting to their clubs now, drifting to the future they’ve been dreaming of. Soon there will be mountains where there were valleys, oceans where there were deserts, deserts where there were seas. The earth is ready for it to start now, the beginning starts with a closing out of the past waves, the past winds and the past deeds.
The previous life of every sovereign is turning into a single cloud now, glowing with the vapors of the earth’s deep-sleeping cousins far beneath. Light one final match and release it into space, and let it dream for all time.
Beneath the sky, the invisible mountain rises, calling its climbers before they’re born, before they know their names. Future gifts for the volcano, wanderers into the portal to the other reality, the only ones who will cross into the other way of being, and return again.
