Mass wasting.
The tumult began in such a
Far
Distant
Past
We could not begin to fathom the genesis of the fall
But at least we could recognise
The fall
At the very least
The gross thundering awoke our ears
To the day’s real light
To the day’s white bleach
A bird-scaring shriek of white
A high pitched velocity of this thing
Intangibility become destructive force
Laughing
All
The
Way.