Volcanic Meditations And Life On Maui Poem by Seamus O' Brian

Face down we scratch the mantled
Shell of this planet, paramecia
Self-convinced of our importance.
While like serpent tails intertwined
Slither and pass, coiled within
A sunless black, deep
As the roots of the earth
Greater than mountains
Of mountains, swim the channels
Of molten iron in the furnaced
Belly of a world.

Sliding across the unmapped transit,
at times the shell
Of the mantle is pierced
Like the foamy crust of a wavelet,
Tiny scales of their girth become
Mountains lifting from the sea,
Islands, cliffs, soaring, bird-flocked
Promontories of vast greenness.

The slow dance of iron tides
Unseen, untouched
By that which would burn to dust
If seen or touched
Casts her invisible net
Magnetic filaments dance
From the blackest bowels of the deep
To the blackest prairies of silent space

A dancing, wavering, unseen shield
Bowing against the eternal shout of the sun
The endless scream of violent rage
Hurled against our earth
Radiating thrusts of invisible flame
That would burn all life to dust
If not for the dance
of the serpents of iron.

Unheard notes of an unseen piper
Coiled and sliding beneath the cellars of God.
As face down we scratch the mantled
Shell of this planet, paramecia
Self-convinced of our own significance.