The Tempest

produce your last polluted air

let your final breath protrude into naught

for the tempest yields to none

ever expanding, hollow, vigilant

ever demanding, hungry, vigorous,

ever devouring all things organic

ever empowering itself

all things puny

all things lesser

consumed by that eternal gust

razing, buzzing cyclone of a myriad of winds

oh, how we long to be turned to solid stone