Honesty Of Falling Leaves

Honesty Of Falling Leaves
© Surazeus
2025 08 06

Every day feels like the end of the world, 
the raven lady of the weird woods sings, 
so I pick prickly fruit of arrogance 
from tree of death, that writhes in agony, 
to eat the temporary truth of fate 
which demolishes the world I create. 

More real than honesty of falling leaves 
that twirl from heaven most exquisitely 
my heart expands beyond bounds of the Earth 
with torrid muteness of demonic wings 
so I inform the world regretfully 
that life goes on after everyone dies. 

Beside white tower of eternal flame 
that shimmers bright on rugged cape of fear 
the raven lady in the black dress growls 
at pack of wolves that run in swirling mist 
because she wants to raise me from the dead 
after replacing my heart with her clock. 

Mechanic despair of the broken heart 
fuels journey of my blind robotic soul 
that crawls beaten and defeated back home 
so I weave stories of courageous hope 
to create beauty out of my heartbreak 
though I drown mute in sorrow of the faith. 

Astride white horse of bold nobility, 
the knight in shining armor wields word spear 
to kill dragon of masculinity 
which threatens queen of femininity 
in psychic war to conquer and control 
aggressive intention to procreate. 

We gather in huge cave of screaming gods 
to organize countless pages from books 
which each records in briefest summary 
tragic life of one complex human soul 
whose name is never whispered in the wind 
that flutters leaves of faceless demon trees. 

How bizarre, shepherd Tityrus laments, 
these times are revolutionary bad 
again in cycle of destructive hate 
erupting from ambitious clash for power 
which still alternates between joy and grief 
that leaves me stranded on the signless road. 

We can trust honesty of falling leaves 
that cover all our graves with veil of Time 
for she erases everything from Earth 
while molding new souls from dust of our light 
so we meet again by the apple tree 
to eat the fruit of wisdom till we die.