Chaos
The odor of combustion streams through the gusting onslaught.
Melted mines and burning souls grapple.
The mountebank fortuning* the pious hauteur to beguile in the effort we align.
Victims in the chaos of a outset eternal war with the freedom to chose a weapon.
Stand silent in the whirlwinds of change and you will cry a thunderstorm.
Take shelter in the whirlwinds and you’ll drown in a thunderstorm.
My words - *fortuning:
To give a percentage of ones money that is the equivalent of a fortune for many. Especially of billionaires supporting idealistic causes. Context defines the intent. Either of lust for more money or lust of pride.
-M
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