Aftersin

The mountain explodes

The reason for which is not understood,

A molten crest

Slowly overshadows, unimpeded.

They wake in shock.

They run in horror.

They stand in awe.

Slowly swallowed, in obsidian tombs.

 

I run

As one is taught to do

When temptation pines for you.

Sinful lava’s ploys astound,

And I’m convinced to turn around.

I run,

As thoughts thwart me with, “True?”

Away from my last glimpse of You.

Sin’s pleasure quickly turns to pain.

I’m stuck yet sorry, so, in vain,

I run.

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