Junefinnigan's Weblog

 The Wayward Son

 By June Finnigan

The Sun was raging, boiling hot, spat out its wayward son,

The fiery rock, alone in shock, flew ever further on.

At last it slowed and felt a pull towards a silent moon,

It rested there and gently spun to cool its molten wounds.

Its outer crust became less hot, a warm and sticky stew,

Tiny creatures, mindless things evolved and landmass grew,

The mud then thinned and creatures swam in seas of blue and green

Then trees and plants grew strong and danced, in breezes fresh and clean.

The smiling rock gazed into space and felt its fathers pleasure

The Sun was pleased and sent out rays, to warm the rocks new weather

But waiting in the gentle seas, a creature not so happy, had seen the land

 And grew some legs, its greed was sharp and snappy.

The creature quickly found its feet and started walking upright

It marched across those fertile lands with battles, scorn, and blight

It built great ships, it sailed the seas and thought itself superior

It mined and scarred the rocky slopes, it damaged rocks interior.

It killed and ate the harmless creatures, greedy sickly feasts

It sucked out oil, created fuel to feed its metal beasts

The rock felt ill, its centre groaned with fire that spurted out

The creature and its kind were shocked, they screamed and ran about.

The Sun looked down upon the rock, it shed a molten tear

The creature was the one to blame; he was the one to fear.

The Sun increased it burning power right through the ozone layer

It would scare the greedy beast, the creature said a prayer.

The rock spat out its wayward son and sent it into space

The creature’s metal ship had been it’s only saving grace.

The Sun watched from its vantage point and waited many years

Until the rock was well and healed, then brushed away its tears.