Spirited

Quiet, ever so hushed and calm,
The silenced await, solemn and patient.
Bated breaths and muffled sighs,
Their rustles deafening, the whimpers blunt.

Stray not over the dizzying emptiness,
Step not on that fresh mound.
Their anguished cries may claim you,
Cries of the stricken, the slaughtered, the drowned.

A Lament

Seas trembled and writhed in dismay,
The flames shed a single tear.
Rock withered and sky staggered,
The murk dissolved, stale but clear.

Splotches of red stained the whispering snow,
A frown creased the brittle heat.
Clouds burst forth in a reckless rage,
Pooling round the tempest's feet.

The errant mob behaved itself,
Rivers stiffened and ceased their flow.
The dead heaved an expectant sigh,
Machines skidded to a halt, wiping their brow.

The world slowed down, panting,
Time itself caught its breath.
Chaos went numb and silent,
Lamenting the poet's death.