Holocaust The blue sky, The green trees, The song of birds, Floating on crisp spring breeze. The crunch of leaves underfoot, The swish of fleeing wildlife, The light filtering through, An easy peace with no strife. Then the forest sounds go quiet, The animals are gone, The man stands, bewildered, And wonders what is wrong. Then there is a flash, A brilliant white glare, Upon the cloudless horizon, A cloud forms in the clear air. The far hill ripples, The trees sway, And then burst in to flames, As a red wind sweeps his way. Then the man is knocked from his feet, As a wall of sound hits him, And a terrible booming wail, Fills his ears to the brim. He cries out in fear and horror, And stares at the advancing cloud of debris, Wondering how this could be, As the forest is demolished, tree by tree. Then the gust hits, He feels his skin begin to peel, To fall away in the intense inferno, And he finally understands this is real. But it is to late for him, As it is for all the rest of his kind, Because He handed them there death warrant, And they all signed. Now the land is barren and silent, The ground, once, moist, is cracked and dry, The scoured and blackened bones of what once was, Provide little for new life, should it try. And as the echoing cries of the damned, Call out from there unholy grave, They ask for forgiveness, But there is nothing left to save.