Poetry in Narrative.

Beautiful Tia-A mat.

Beautiful Tia-A mat.

The bond was mated

like man to wife,

I brought forth the jelly

with its long life.

I scooped out the basin

so depositing the water,

a sacrifice was made

for the fifth daughter.

Torn into a third

I brought forth the moon,

still void and lifeless

the tides would come soon.

Waters washed and tossed

as I watched over the shore,

then the orb shone brightly

on Tia-A mat once more.

* * *

Reflected throughout

beautifully blue everywhere,

a thousand to a day

jewels shone in the nights air.

The booming was loud

smoke and soot raced forth,

mountains were blackening

in the lava's course.

Clouds rose high

full of C.O.2,

beginning of the second,

that's two thousand to you.

* * *

Grass's and tree's

all vegetation to claim,

thanks to the constant,

endless rains.

Lands full of plenty,

paradise all rolled into one,

valleys and rivers merged

beauty for a setting sun.

The moon rose full

high out above the sea,

another begging to end

for three thousand and three.

* * *

The stirring was electrifying

flocks moving round about,

cloven and sure of foot

were the first to move out.

Climbed again to the moon

surveyed the revolving stars,

glanced down towards the sphere

twisting amongst the shards.

* * *

Placed the bracelet as a barrier

to protect from the outer cuff,

with the behemoth and leviathan

certainly life was going to be tough.

Closing up the forth, fifth and sixth

was no easy task to paint,

but the last part was much easier

and it is, quite quaint.

* * *

I was the original potter,

I molded and shaped the clay,

I brought the life giving waters,

I brought forth the D.N.A.

Now you may or may not be thankful

for this island paradise you've got,

I was, I am, I always will be,

I will watch you forever

my beautiful Tia-Amat.

A.o.R.