This heaven.
This pervasive, reaching, constant
malignancy
of beauty.
This scarred stretch

of glacier
laying quiet surreal tracks
on the Earth.
The tears
through the soil
aging gracefully, deepening, filling
with rapids, or growing more
and more
dry.
The monstrous wound
of humanity
working against the flames
that burn so hot they
fill the sky,
split oaks in half.

Then, come the seedlings.

New growth
from each catastrophe.
My heart considers this
and sings.