Dried cracking flesh of the mother,
Tortured and beaten by the sandy wind,
Scorched parched pores of her flesh,
Open and gasping for water,
Dying the Mother is dying,
Her inhabitants, blemish like inhabitants gone,
Deserting Her tired tortured body,
She seeks the cycle of Her renewal,
Renewal after death,
Only Her counterpart, the Horned One can deliver Her fate,
Water the bring of life,
The only thing to reverse this painful state,
Without Him She's left in her eternal pain,
Clouds form in the blue merciless sky above Her,
The sky that Her, the Mothers, inhabitants ate way with their poisonous
breath,
Clouds so white, rain hath never fallen from them,
But they thicken, so dense as so the blue sky is now replaced with white,
And now the white darkens, a gray that foretells rains,
A chill wind caresses the torn tattered flesh of the Mother,
She knows and waits; Her renewal comes in the form of rain,
The crash of rejoice thunder echoes over Her, releasing the rain,
Sheets upon thick sheets of rain fall, quenching Her thirst,
Her parched skin soothed, Her rivers, creeks; ponds no longer dry,
More joyous booms of lightning followed by the thunderous Horned Ones
voice,
The Mothers seedlings, once trapped under hard dry mud,
Now bloom, freed by the rain, rising from the ground,
Her rivers now flow like never before,
The creeks flow to the rivers, the rivers to the oceans,
Her beautiful coral reefs, now fully protected by Her vast powerful ocean
tides,
The clouds part, the Horned One has finished a job that was much needed,
Beautiful in all Her glory, the Horned One smiles upon Her,
His rays shine down on His celestial mate,
Giving warmth to the new blossoms,
Glissening in her now perfect blue oceans, rivers and creeks,
Two celestial beings counting on one another,
For they both bring life unto themselves,
Without one there is nothing,
Without the other there is only darkness.