Laden with love, gloating in anticipation,
All seems fair, and all looks like gold,
And then a whisk of grey hair appears,
Groped in shock, disbelief, tears,
A seed is sown. Will it degenerate? What if it doesn’t?
What if it grows and spreads like plague?
All efforts taken to calm the fire breathing dragon
Lots of menthol poured
A dormant volcano?
Many a moments pass. In love, in laughter, in dreams, of palaces and empires
That will be built
Where am I?
Standing on a dormant volcano?
Can I dig a little deeper?
Digging, digging… I find gold.
Should I continue digging more?
Digging, digging… I find more gold.
Pleased. satisfied. Peaced out.
And suddenly I feel a warmth beneath my feet?
Signs of dormant volcano waking up? Or just some unpatterned coincidence?
Every morning I wake up,
Checking if my feet feel ‘normal’
How long must I wait before I begin to build my palace?
How do I know the palace is not on a dormant volcanic piece of land?
Does anyone have the answers?