Marieta Maglas

Eruptions of Change

In the heart of the Earth, where flames

intertwine with rock, volcanoes awaken,

exhaling plumes of ash and gas, their

plume a transient veil obscuring the sun.

For a fleeting moment, they turn daylight

into twilight, casting shadows over fields,

tempering the sweltering breath of summer.

Yet beneath this transient tranquillity, carbon

murmurs— a subtle threat weaving through

the fabric of time. A paradox unfurls—

the smoke conceals the light, yet the heart

beneath, throbs heavier with each pulse of

the roar, the carbon dioxide, a specter of

our creation, trails behind us like a lingering

shadow, its presence a reminder, that every

eruption, every obstruction, merely shifts

the balance. As the seas shudder— life

releasing its burdens, the tight embrace

of death seeps back into the air, further

entangling us in a web not of our choosing.

Three centuries, a mere blink in time, but

what a weight we’ve forged, more than

thirty-five percent; each molecule,

a testament to the fires we have ignited,

to forests lost. Through photosynthesis,

the trees once sang a chorus, harmonized

with the sky, exchanging breaths, but now,

high above, the ozone withers, its veil thin

and torn, allowing the sun’s relentless gaze

to pierce deeply into our essence, as

chlorofluorocarbons rise, like smoke from

a waning flame. And still, the tectonic plates

churn, the reverberations of ancient forces

igniting eruptions; fire and ice locked in

a struggle, a delicate dance of balance,

fighting against the snowball chill, an echo

of a frozen world, highlighting our vulnerability,

the fragile threshold of warmth, where life

teeters on the brink. Unique Earth, adorned

with cycles, perpetual ebbs and flows of fate;

we stand, eyes wide open, witnesses to

transformation, seeking significance, in

the rising heat and shadowed illumination,

aware that even in stillness, the rhythms of

history continue, and the smoke—

a paradox, a resonance deep within us all,

serves as both a warning and an awakener.

In the quietude where tectonic murmurs

dwell, the earth exhales softly, signs of

ancient force, dragging carbon from

the abyss, lifting it like a painter’s brush,

etching history upon the canvas of existence.

Pangea fractured—a magnificent mosaic,

fragments cast adrift, longing for the embrace

of their lost kin. Each shard, a new continent

cradled by the ocean, cradling the promise of rain,

moisture weaving from clouds— an artist’s palette,

shades of existence and dust. But the air thickens,

equilibrium falters, as the unyielding waltz of

erosion unfolds, stones thinning under the gentle

burden of purpose, truth entwined with time.

Carbon, once inhaled, is now released—

beneath the shroud of ice and beneath

the sun’s gentle gaze. Glaciers stretch

their spectral fingers, veils of white whispering

albedo secrets, reflecting energy back,

to the cosmos as a mirror, while beneath,

the deserts fade, parched lips cracked,

thirsting for storms that have forgotten

how to dance on the land. Yet, the belly

of the earth swells— volcanoes awaken,

bellowing forth, carbon escaping in vast

clouds, a gas gun unleashed, filling

the vault with air, warmth, and light;

ensnaring rays in a delicate embrace,

the greenhouse effect's tender cradle.

As moisture rises, vaporous dreams collide

with the fiery breath of creation, forming

the acid rain, soft yet fierce, eroding

the stone-hearted giants that keep their

secrets tightly, the bicarbonate

flowing into the sea, gathering into

patterns of silent artistry. The ocean inhales

deeply, the waters cradle pirouetting ions,

inscribing tales in carbonate, fossils of

a life lost and rediscovered.

As the cycle spins, endlessly weaving

the tapestry of life under our feet, where

every element sings its role. So here

we stand today, reflections of this world,

each breath we take mirrors the cries of

the ages— the rise and fall, the ebb and

flow, the carbon cycle intertwined with

our existence, a reminder that we are

both the breath of earth and the echoes of time.

Evolution

In the soft embrace of twilight's glow,

we find ourselves gathered around a

holy table. The flickering candlelight

dances upon our features, and

the air is alive with the words

of those who once shared this space;

here, where the essence of

existence simmers. We lift our glasses—

crimson elixir, vibrant as the heart’s pulse,

as if the vine itself had woven the threads

of our stories into each precious drop.

Spirit flowing, awakening our senses,

reminding us of moments conceived

in the stillness of creation. Bread,

golden and warm, loaves cradled

like cherished promises; each crumb,

a testament to our bond—

binding us to one another and

to the echoing breath of God,

who shaped us from wet dust

and breathed life into our souls.

“Let us make man in our image,”

a sacred creation, a reminder that

without Him, words slip away,

dissipating like morning mist.

We risk becoming mere shadows,

monkeys in the fold, lost in a forest

of silence, reaching for meaning as

the symphony of existence dims

under the weight of our doubt.

Why did the serpent coil its tongue

around promises and lies? Kafka’s

metamorphosis, a reflection of our

innermost fears and a struggle; to be

caught between flesh and spirit. Together,

we contemplate our existence,

the musings of Darwin, the cycles of Mayan

wisdom, and all echoing uncertainties. Yet—

in this moment, in this gathering,

the presence of God shines forth—

a beacon in the haze. For what is faith

if not the light that nourishes our humanity?

We are reborn in love, our hearts stitched

together with compassion, striving to be

good, to be whole, led by the sacred words

gifted to us, intricately woven in the tapestry of

creation, urging us to awaken and

to dwell in the grace of God.