Days went by, no action to take
To watch in despair, the island in dismay
Pele’s wrath, the sight of beauty
Enticed, allured, charming
A fearsome force, yet delightful and keen
Glimmering shine, in the darkest of nights
A nomadic spirit trailed in ash
Destruction ensued, villages ablaze
Sorrow and resent, they chased her away
Accused of horror, and destruction
The kind spirit fled, trailed with creation
Retreating into the ocean, new lands arose
Life had blossomed, like never before
The ash blew away, and flowers were born
Grasslands and prairies glistened without blight
The villagers, filled with regret
For the kindled spirit, has good intent
To purge the disease, and start a clean slate
When it comes to the aina, there is no debate.