BOOM

Sometimes truth can finesse
its way through
the spheres
like rain
sinks
through topsoil,
subsoil, limestone
shelf, trickling along
lines of thirst, calling
itself to deep convocation, quietly
rendering callous earth
viable,

but
sometimes truth comes sheer and armed
to the teeth, blistering
asphalt, shattering
pillars, splitting bones
and hairs, flaring
its manifold,
feral vassals, once benign, now
transmuted by crucial
proximity, now
disposed (like saltpeter/sulfur/charcoal),
when sparked by mercy
or wrath, to go
boom.