Catastrophe

Rain washed all traces away.
But not the decay.

The decomposition and detrition,
fractions of radiant energy.

Immense power to condition.
Like a patrician on a Byzantine mission.

Frozen in time.
The water
The wine.

Drenched to the bone.
A death fight for the throne.

The blood
The flood.
The endless cloying mud.

No one could have predicted
or depicted.
The throngs of the afflicted.

Such terrible ferocity of thought.
Fraught and taut.

A catastrophe wrought.
Doctrinal conformity sought.
It would all come to nought.