The Chaos of Fluffy Bunnies
In twilight furrows where ancestral bones enrich the rye-grass loam,Soft tyrants muster, draped in innocence, declaring hearth and field their home;Their fanged smiles glisten—pearl and scarlet—syllables of violence spelled in breath,A paradox of plush and plague, reciting psalms that conjugate with death.
Cotton cloaks a calculus of ruin, every whisker angles dark intent,Incisors click like metronomes while moonlit barns collapse, still redolent with scent;No prophecy inscribed on cryptic tablets, no martyr’s plea, nor sainted charm,Deflects the rabbits’ soft pageant—or stays the ember sleeping in each arm.
A breeze may hum through clover, yet beneath those stalks infernos wait in queue,And rows of lettuce blacken first, proof that serenity was never true;The ground remembers iron hooves and Roman salt, but nothing scorched as clean,As guileless paws now tracing wildfire circles, stitching ash into the green.
Axes rust on nail-scarred beams while mothers clutch their rosaries of dust,For gentleness, when weaponized, corrodes the core, mocks the word “in trust”;Thus chaos churns in downy tufts, a dialect of blood translated slow,Repeating that the smallest blade exacts the deepest debt a world can owe.
Yet through the furnace, mettle tempers—charred souls coagulate to steel,Like iron dripped in rivers cold they harden, sworn no cotton claw shall make them kneel;Resilience buds within the char, a blackened rose whose thorns outshine its bloom,It learns to blossom only where the rabbits fail to find unguarded room.
Still, legend grows in smoke-lit aisles: that hearths were razed by cherub things,And every torch that licked a roof once balanced on two docile wings;So chronicles record the night when comfort birthed calamity in fur,A caution scribed on cellar walls—beware the lullaby without a slur.
For each catastrophe in wool reminds the quick of truths concealed,That strength emerges hewn from flame, by talon’s rasp and wound unhealed;And though the chaos flaunts its grin, though fang and fluff conspire in mirth,The tempered hearts distilled from ruin outlast the ash that salts the earth.