Powerful / Miniscule

With two bloody hands, in two bloody wombs. (one giveth, the other taketh away) I tread carelessly through the mud, under starless ghost cloud skies. Trees on either side, twist slowly. Creaking, content and swelling sweet and green. Arching inwards to protect and subtly remind me of their infinate beauty and overwhelming power. I don't need reminding. I feel miniscule as it is. Despite the bitten and bruised bodies I drag behind me. Despite my conquests of flesh and bone, medusa screams from the Moon above. Forever. The winds whip the world away as always, while the crust slips around on a bed of molten Earthblood. And we all crash into the rocks in her torrents.