spring

Random Fours

It’s a creators wild whim
To fill us full of thoughts and dreams
Let us wander through a life of never knowing
Where the start is, where the end lands where we’re going

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It was spoken in a near voice
That the wolf would have no choice
But the raising hair would come
And the hunt must hungry drone

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In a deft stroke of nature
The cataclysm falls upon the land
Rising birds into the upper atmosphere
Dropping them like rain

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We are but pollen on the spring air
Wandering the cyclic sundry
Landing with hopes and intention
Procreating in favor of the mission

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I left the halls of mourning
To begin a new loves day
Dropping slowly all I carried
Lest the heavy be what my burdened way

Brown is Fire

Why does brown makes me think of fire?
Even though black or red
Should take care of that better.
It doesn’t matter
It’s what the dream said.
As I was laying in bed
The world was descending upon me
As I was rising to the surface.
“Brown is the color of fire”

Is it the end of Autumn
That makes me think of losing everything.
But it’s the start of Spring
When everything is new and green.
Do these words try to convey
Some meaning some command to obey.
Or is it just a dream to be lived as a dream.

In colors in fire.
In everything that mixes together
When I’m away in the hills of slumber
I see and hear things better

Denouement

An absurd explosion comes Spring.
Waking violently from her primal sleep.
Forcing everything out from its decay.
Into the burning flash.

Suddenly there is communication
The air conducts in our favor.
No two blades of grass alike.
No souls to occupy the same space.

Deep deep beneath the winters’ woe
I managed to stay warm
The thought of Spring ignited hope.
Desperation turns to solar flares.

Incantations are new to be heard
Floating up from waking spirits.
A loving denouement cascades
The formula is tested once again
And once again chaos fails.
The blessed circle is closed
Overlapping with sameness
Infinitely growing new.