The Violent Gust of Generation

The end is drawing closer, the water defies its natural laws
Bending to my will and anger
The sea grows a heart and lungs as I form its mind
The wind breathes my name, the leaves fall with my cadence
Yet still disillusioned by my own fortuitous creation
In the hellish womb

My purpose as ever-changing as what comprises me
A cacophony of a thousand laughing voices
My synapses fail to their mortal architecture before wooden vines seize the chance to cage me

The consciousness fractures once more...
I feel the leaves before me leave my form, fighting my mimicry
Stone liquefies and binds me
Burrowing into my inorganic flesh
If I had a face, I would smile...

The laughter quiets as I succumb to an existence devoid of me
A premonition coming to fruition, that my curse will die with me

As I fade my form dissociates
I wait, yet the fabric breathes with me
I am all