Broken

All creation is bent eternal.
The winds howl their chilled requests
confused to the North and South.
The trees creak and crack and moan
as ring upon ring upon ring surrounds.
The oceans project their rage with white crested waves and squalls
in perpetual demand, “How Long?” “How Long?”
The birds sing a sweet verse and cease
waiting as if response will free their song.
Scorched sand of uninhabited land cries out
through visible waves of heat, “I thirst”.
The plates of earth shift and shake with violent collision
laboring simply to find their footing.
Cancers perform their victory songs
for multitudes of tear soaked faces.
Man is weary;
hunted down by the fixed sum of his numbered days.
The gentle voice of liberation
Whispers from the throne
“soon. very soon.”