Friday, November 22, 2024

Sorrow Of The Autumn Wind

Sorrow Of The Autumn Wind
© Surazeus
2024 11 22

Released from sorrow of the autumn wind, 
heart healing from unspoken wounds of loss, 
I search for connection to the deep time 
that flickers bright on currents of the stream, 
for only I understand my own grief 
that tears my soul into immortal words. 

I breathe each shocking moment of this hour 
with carefree laughter of the autumn wind 
that leaves me stranded on the future shore 
where all I know is true dissolves away 
so I can only see what might occur 
which gives me no consolation in words. 

Though I hide in mute shadow of the tree 
which blooms fruit with indifferent concern, 
my memories always come looking for me 
with plans to reshape who I want to be, 
so squeak of my feet in the river mud 
comforts my heart with routine of old words. 

These strange sentences I attempt to speak 
out of turn in tangled thoughts of despair 
are carried away by hands of the wind 
and scattered in tall grass on roadless plain, 
back and forth as leaves falling worn from trees 
who watch me wander nowhere without care. 

Though I cannot enclose the sky with words, 
I can build virtual world in my brain 
composed of every memory I have gleaned 
from every book I have managed to read, 
yet universe my words design from dreams 
will never be complete before I die. 

My heart is cluttered with souls of the dead 
whose words rattle bone-loud in my glass skull 
when I reach my hand in well of lost dreams 
to draw new tropes in lottery of the truth 
which I attempt to organize with keys 
that complete puzzle of the world with words. 

Disturbed by diamond eye of honesty, 
peaceful pond of my soul ripples with song 
of bitter-sweet joy for people I meet 
because I know Death has not found them yet, 
so we sit together around the fire 
and share fruit we steal from the Tree of Truth. 

Still trapped in sorrow of the autumn wind, 
heart soaking in tears of lost wanderers 
who share their tales of suffering and woe 
in circus temple of the fallen angel, 
I record their stories in Book of Faith 
so our children succeed where we have failed. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus writes hymns to the countless gods of mortal souls with blood of angels on fragile leaves that blow away in sorrow of the autumn wind.

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