A wasteland. That’s what immediately comes to mind.
A path of destruction, laid waste by epic force.
Separating marrow from bone, body from spirit, heaven from earth.
How to transverse this monster? Around it, under it, alongside it, please no!
I must turn against the ugly specter, I must rejoin my former situation;
Before this Devastation!
How does living endure a course, through this blight?
With everything of value now smote?
Can beauty or praise or joy arise from your ash heap?
How I wish you were no more.
And yet, each rising of the morning sun,
Casts the shadow of Hope;
Darkness now temporary, soon overcome.
Through fire and flood, cleanse it will.
Lay falsehood to rest, purify any waste.
No truer course towards wakefulness is found,
Than through the wasteland…Devastation.