The wrath of old rocks
placed upon the ridges
Bastions of the universe
Never fully spent
the sediments has taken them
The cold and damp has returned
Hear the thighless mother
in her inverted travail
Her shrieks float in the infinite blue
As the stars treat
how volcanoes are born
in the distorted red
From the slow slopes
and in the early winds
it echoes from all around
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