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