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Autumn
In Autumn when leaves
are gold and rust
no longer green
stifled
by null,
corrosive air
aflame
in burning hue
of vitriol sky
I ponder
the scheme of life
the cycle of birth-decay
and quietly recall
old dreams
once made.
Like fallen blades
upon the earth
were swept away
wind-blown
till out of reach
and faded with acid time.
But dreams
unlike leaves need
no season to bear
no rain
or sunbeams
or ethereal air
the soil
from which they spring
neither clay nor humus black
but,
from a spiritual garden
they seed
even
if earthly existence
of mind deceive.
are gold and rust
no longer green
stifled
by null,
corrosive air
aflame
in burning hue
of vitriol sky
I ponder
the scheme of life
the cycle of birth-decay
and quietly recall
old dreams
once made.
Like fallen blades
upon the earth
were swept away
wind-blown
till out of reach
and faded with acid time.
But dreams
unlike leaves need
no season to bear
no rain
or sunbeams
or ethereal air
the soil
from which they spring
neither clay nor humus black
but,
from a spiritual garden
they seed
even
if earthly existence
of mind deceive.
Add a Compliment
-
Compliment by Kent Davis on October 29, 2009 at 4:20pm - Smooth as eternal glass.
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This is great, Sharon. There's no void of down-toned comm on our planet today.
You make a great point about creating "good effects", not only in our art, but in our
lives as we lead them. That is what Ron says in Route To Infinity- just being a
bea…
Your verses leave me detached, suspended in the silence of me.
And then the endless contemplations of "what if" so much beauty
could fill the spaces of us all.
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