In the darkened forest of
Those below and those above,
Followed I am through the dead and rustling leaves.
Summer sun or autumn light?
All but forgotten where I might
Have awoken in the midst of those lost trees.
My only clue is the warm
Of the breeze that around me swarms.
Here something whispers: “Winter is not far.”.
There’s a break in the canopy
That offers no new sight to see,
Only the grey that stretches on and on and on.
My steps carry me no farther
The wind carries words from afar, her
Messages are seldom those of comfort, much less of wisdom.
Raindrops and a cold now herald
The days end; my easy path turned feral.
Just how cold and wet remains for me to be seen.
No shelter, no end, no rest,
I wander on, and do my best,
To stay on a straight path, and not become more lost.
With daylight now expired
I sit, my eyes so tired,
And hope when I awaken that the world will be a different place.
I awake without opening my eyes
I’ll not do so voluntarily, something else must pry,
For the rustling of leaves tells me something I ought not to hear.
Standing up and pushing on,
I tread paths where nothing belongs,
And an echo of a whisper repeats: “Winter is not far.”
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged awake, dark, echo, eye, forest, leaf, leaves, path, poem, poetry, rest, tree, whisper, winter
I am the only one here
It is obvious others have gone on before me,
I’m sure more will follow.
I am alone.
However a lonely lie I do repeat
You cannot convince me otherwise.
And upon climbing back up from the valley
The echo of a lonely lie calls back from afar.
The path is barren.
I descend into fog for fear of reaching the summit.
Posted in Personal
Tagged alone, barren, call, echo, Fall, lie, lonely, path, poem, poetry, summit, valley
Left behind in empty rooms
That fill with light shown from the moon.
Daytime shows a different scene.
A small echo found in between
The crumbling walls and floorboards.
A brighter place, more easily adored,
This echo of a memory grows
What’s hidden by the nighttime shows,
And everything left to remembering
Shows home the better place to be.
Posted in Musing
Tagged crumble, day, echo, floorboard, home, light, Moon, night, poem, poetry, remember, wall
He speaks to the darkness a question,
The echos repeat it back
Before they give an answer.
Though he is most certainly alone,
He searches for the source in the dark
How can the echo speak of wisdom?
He hears the answer again.
Now he knows
The answer was his all along.
His answer his own
He finds his home
In the dark.
The daylight will find him soon.
From this truth he won’t depart.