An aureole of smog encircles the volcano's opening,
Formed from the scarlet magma.
The lava creeps from the elliptical crevasse
To the bottom of the belching behemoth.
All of the formidable trees of unique viridian,
The fruit of nature and ambrosia,
Phalanxes of infinitesimal insects
Searching for nutrients and love,
And majestic mammals and wise reptiles in perennial conflict
Will perish in five hours,
With two hues of red overflowing the forests.
Only the buoyant and flamboyant birds
Who defy the color spectrum
Can escape this massacre of the innocents.
Yet next year,
The rebirth of all of these persistent organisms
Will be apparent to all who observe them.
"Good riddance to the antiquated trees of dissonant green,
The fruit of bruises and parasitic worms,
The hordes of ravenous bugs
Scouring for food and mates,
And the rabid mammals and cunning reptiles who always fight."
This is the philosophy of basalt debris
Which was told to me during one of our heated arguments,
Mediated by the birds.
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