human form in a volcano

The volcano spoke only in smoke.

People feared it for the fire,

for the way the ground around it stayed empty,

for the heat that felt almost arrogant.

But the mountain did not burn without reason.

Deep inside it,

pressure had been growing for years.

It collected gold from the earth,

fed itself on it,

trusted it more than rain or sunlight.

The volcano loved strange things too,

machines, patterns, artificial stars,

anything that made more sense than people.

Once, a single flower grew near its edge.

The mountain protected it quietly.

When the flower disappeared,

the volcano erupted for the first time.

Since then,

it has hidden everything beneath ash.

Now the world only sees destruction,

never the warmth buried underneath it.