The earth heaves to yield
The stunning rise of snow-capped wonders,
And pebbles round to perfection
In the womb of slumbering glaciers.
From the crushing might of rocks
Stones with gleam emerge,
While smoldering ejections
Shape the green isle.
The winds pattern the golden dunes,
And the gorges stand apart to lead
The sands to the sea
Where an oyster hides and weeps,
To reveal its misery in a rare pearl.
And those who wait
Find festering wounds healed,
And grow the halo of the wise
All in good time.
Does the awesome ever happen in a hurry?
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Thanks. I think it is a good idea.
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