It rumbles the very ground,

it shakes even the air.

Liquid fire comes racing down,

destroying all for which you care.

The sun vanishes behind smoke,

a deathly pal, a harbinger of what’s to come.

Ash falls like rain from the sky,

it to shall kill some.

Devastation is the mid-wife,

destruction is the child.

A force to be reckoned with,

never once to be considered mild.

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Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog and have no artistic claim to it.

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