The calm, too calm, too calm, too calm,
Level banks level and waters pond,
Soft cradles lull the wild beast to sleep,
Passion going down lost in the deep,
Tempest rising with the call of the skies,
Sound upon sound screeching multiplies,
Black hands stretch from sky to ground,
A new earth, a new land, a new forest found,
Engines of the devil roar with laughter,
Whirling, singing, and spitting thereafter,
Into the vortex go the living and the dead,
A feast for the beast inside the devil’s head,
A journey to the belly and a ride of all rides,
An adrenalin high and a swirling on all sides,
Music to the ears of the sultans of space,
A symphonious whirling at a furious pace,
A glance at the earth on an iron spindle,
Behold a new sight, a glorious spectacle,
The beauty of the tempest, the spirit rising,
A spirit on high or a downward compromising,
Each to me is a choice I have to live with;
A home in the skies or the home down below.

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