All Fall Down
Leaves toppling from trees fiery autumn leaves red yellow green flames. Only this remains...smoky ends of days. Days like leaves crumbling, shriveled, tumbling down, falling to the ground. Scattered, gathered into an acrid mound. An acrid mound of sour roots. My garden was seeded from the wrong side of the moon. Brackish vines and ruin were harvested there. Flowers of despair gave off a single fruit. It tasted bittersweet. My laughter became harsh. My eyes grew oblique. I want to curse and cry against this world. My fine dreams stolen...ragged and torn like leaves blown in storm. Storm winds strangle treetops, shaking, crackling foliage pulled from boughs. Broken open by clouds pushed through long nights Long nights heavy with rains spilling black ink stains. I have found no solution, another day done another piece of the puzzle gone Ashes ashes all fall down what is lost can not be found. Without compass, without guide icy frost hardens the way painting trails ashen cold. Cold crystal, nebula and mist drift wandering voiceless through mountains of morning. Dressed in shadows, we join dusty messengers of dawn.