My steps carry me towards the volcano which might fully guards the bay. The clouds align to fit better in the picture of the mountain. Everything is determined by the presence of this colossus. The smoke surrounds it innocent, in white clouds, the top which can bring death in every second...

the green island
home for the old volcano -
today it sadly sleeps

The thoughts carry me back to the past. I can see the thick smoke which used once to engulf the top of the mountain, I can almost feel the drops of ash which used to forsake the disaster. The smoke clouds were couriers for tongues of fire that seared everything in their way. A see of flames came down on the ground, a moment of splendor for so many artists...

clouds of thick smoke
and the red flames -
a new life

The past seems to come out from every ounce of dust. I can feel the history that was written here. Under the dust lay civilizations, with their traditions and idols. I am only a small piece among all that happened and all that is yet to happen at the feet of this titan. I bow in respect and walk away...