In The Fall

 

In the fall,

when winter winds entice

us into thinking we’re

approaching some eternal end,

we stand amongst the coldness

and project our future view:

Where is it that we’re going to?

And how,

amongst these padded lives

are we to know what we should do?

 

We start to feel the coldness

as it nestles up around our chins.

And out beneath the empty sky,

beneath the empty,

aching limbs of living things

that have gone dry,

the coldness creeps beneath our skins

where all our hidden passions lie.

 

And we, in silent rectitude

of warmer days that once have been,

retire deep within ourselves;

a shelter,

cast by dreamless men,

designed to drown

our sense of sin.

 

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