She screamed from her fiery core—

She cannot keep herself cool and collected on the surface

Because the sun stepped out of the atmosphere

And sprinted toward her bodies of saltwater seas

To soothe the blistering of his own weathered, leathery skin

But it angered his wounds—

And Gaia offered him her shaded forests to rest his head.

Pillows of moss and fig leaves for shelter from the whistling wind.

If he sits still,

He can hear the sound of Earth spinning her axis,

Dancing on her heels to touch the stars above her.

Another space rock called her from the neighborhood of Andromeda,

It’s much less heat

And everyone minds their business.

She says she’s outgrowing the Milky Way

And must go where her lifesource will not be exploited.

She’ll only miss whispering to the moon

While the baby slept,

Wandering the unlit hallways of her many hills and valleys,

Releasing the pent-up fury that has been building since before her waters separated from the firmanent.

Tripping over a hornets nest,

Unleashing the winged beasts,

Watching as the curtain closed like their swollen throats.