Cold Steel Blooming
by Odin Roark


Elastic creatures we,
bending to our impulsive zone,
dodging history’s reality to come.

As archaic dirt rises
where once clear water flowed,
a forged weapon of anger lays dormant,
wanting its time to be the all,
believing life is merely another war waiting to be?

Tomorrow the gray sun of emotional pollution
will once more remind us of hate-mongers once bold,
dust gathering once again.
Waiting.

Oh, how patient they are,
knowing darkness is the light that once was,
an illumination long gone into their abyss.

Beware…

To listen is to know.
The ground is quaking.
The killing season’s irrigation complete.
The shards of hate are anxious to be harvested.

Such is cold steel about to bloom.