My Doomed Interloper

What the devil makes you think
that I would ever let you
interfere with my life or my love
without retribution divinely called.

The skies themselves may open,
torrents drag the very ground
from beneath my feet, yet still
you will feel the fury of my fists.

As a bear smashes thick trees
to splinters, you shall be smote
and find that your own god
has forsaken you for ever more.

Your grave will bear no green:
I will sow salt - like Carthage
nothing will come from your life;
as well you never were born.