wrath

love no one trust no one
or beware the testament
of betrayal
destroying tearing
raging through the skies
as if your human shape were that storm
destroying crushing
as if you were the wrath
of the shattered ice fields of the pole
that studied coldness
that clinical reduction
of life to messy vengeance
because the coiled twists of your coherence
dictate this
and nothing will abate that hatred
till it spends its howling course
its agonies are hoarse
its spatial box filled with hateful voices
catapulted off into dimensionless
wailing in reduction
down to pointless as its gone

between the vertex and the far-lit grey dawn
the bleached anachronism of colours of which
we are formed may thanks to symmetry
be just and fair once more
and whole within
and its spectrum shine again
like rainbows on a distant stormy day
and that which is given by nature
will soak into us again
but changed in purity

or black and fetid
cursed by bitter wells
where dissatisfaction lurks