Divine a behemoth as a juggernaut grand,
Jaunts on a chariot thru' wide sands.
The skies stand tacit to the clouds of dust,
As His chariot scampers on crust.

Yonder miles of greens and browns,
Thru' lone villages and bright towns,
The chariot scurries and shakes each land,
Driven too wise by the divine hands.

Showering bliss and gleeful winds,
The chariot runs o'er bygone ruins.
The ruins stand tall with all delight,
Freed at...