Lirazel

This One was always the Good one
Calm, well behaved,
Happy to be happy
Restful at rest, playful at play
When that One was scary
Angry, always,
Impossible to handle
To be left alone, wrathful

But Now this one has Almost wilted
In Its silent grief
While that One rages and wails in protest

A fire rages around it
All day and night
Scalding burning hot
So Much that i wonder
How i stay unburnt

Little strings of electricity
Sizzle and sting and gather in it
(I am reminded of
The king of Elflands daughter
Where Ziroonderel harvested
Lightenings from where They had fallen
And become buried under the earth
She dug and mined
All the thunderbts
And made a weapon out of it
I would like to think it was a vajra
Even though it was an English book)

How Will anyone harvest
My Lightening shocks
And what Will i make of
The harvest, i wonder