One cannot make words too strong
It’s like the work of an evil child
A sense comes from it that dislikes humans
Mysterious, mysterious
Talking my arm off
Terrified of the silence that would settle
The dazzling uncertainty
Dry and sharp, desolate and dangerous
Rain, snow, hail, and drought preceded by earthquakes
The grieving turned it to a dangerous metal

And then it changed everything
It was so beautiful that I stopped

It lost its dreadful look
Peculiar, it was so convincing
Green to gold, it becomes a spraying fountain
Bad brushed away like dirt under a rug
Fixed, fine, free
Hear the excited crackle of the branches
A hundred variations of red and silver grey
Weather to spare, weather to sell
The bad turned to good
That’s how it was