November 16, 2018 Eric Blauer

When Lightning Strikes

When Lightning Strikes


The cloven earth,

received the ungrounded fury of Zeus,

what was standing eternal,

now, struck from head to root,

the careless bolt,

has given Elysium

a hero it does not deserve.

Among the thunder of wailing,

the crash of crippled knees,

the tsunami of incoming tides,

all is drowned,

all is buried,

all is lost in weeping.

Our paradise is ravaged,

the boughs of delight, shaken,

all our fruit lay cleaved and smoldering,

and tremors lick our seared nerves

with threatening, tangible power.

The cool shade,

dissipated with thunderous flashbulbs,

blinding suddenness,

stumbling disorientation,

our Olympus has fallen.

A gouged line of demarcation,

jutting downward like a ghostly fingernail,

recklessly directed with a life-altering,

indiscriminate arch of finality.

The air is still charged,

pregnant with impermanence,

tingling terror,

our hairs standing to attention.

The specter of immanence,

stalks us, like a thief unawares,

and shock has awakened

the slumbering immortals

with the cold kiss of Persephone.

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About the Author

Eric Blauer I am barbarian, sage, saint, bard, husband and father. Bow my knee to only One, serve all, ruled by none.

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