A Mighty Mountain

A purple spire rises to the sky,
With sylvan stripes embedded in its robe,
It leers, a massive monster from on high,
It guards, a faithful sentry on patrol.
Its verdant with its purple rows entwine,
A garment shining, as with baited breath,
The silent grays with waking greens combine,
A tapestry displaying life and death.
It grapples with a hidden parasite,
A poison haunts its awful majesty,
It withers from the living all their life,
Eroding every facet’s unity.
While awesome beauty steals the stranger’s breath,
Each trembling spirit strives with life or death.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-June 19, 2010

The Conquest of Nature

Majestic mountain peaks pierce blue and white,
The ocean of the air breathes thunder clouds,
The pistons of the deep break earthen mounds,
And ocean breezes bury mountain’s might.
Poor human hands blast caverns left and right,
They fear the thunder, silencing the sounds,
They flee collapsing tempests, rolling mounds,
And run from water mountains at their height.
What man has conquered nature like a king?
What general of math has cowed the storm?
Nay, humans flee to houses safe and warm,
And claim to conquer nature’s mighty sting.
One man alone has bested nature’s might,
He gave the tempest calm, the blind their sight.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 17, 2009