Destruction

The rain on the mountains—

Wasn't nearly enough.

Yet this river- Why a beast of fury,
roaring wild?

Breaking the banks that held it fast,

Tearing paths into fragments,

The walls that once stood firm and proud,
crumble beneath its roaring might.

And fields and barns, in swaying waves,

Devoured and vanished.

They say of forgotten times,

when flames leapt high 

From forests nestled in these mountains.

Black, ominous smoke
eclipsing the sun and moon.
A dark blanket crept all around—
Nothing was visible, nothing made sense.
Some burned to ash, swallowed whole,
While others suffocated in despair.

And now, that archaic smoke,
Has softened into clouds and rains down.
Otherwise, no purpose stirs, no hidden scheme—
For the river to shatter its banks,
Nor is it the destiny of villages
To be swept from sight,

Like whispers lost in the embrace of night.