A Week Past Pessimism

A week past pessimism here I sit, remembering weakly Days and dreams false hopes and prophets ineptitude and missed ambition. but now, I tell myself, remember now no more, cast aside each fett'ring weight; and paint the future if u can with the untamed neon or colors far beyond this spectrum. yes, still sit in the grey September rain still wash and founder in its long wet grass still fling your longing wildly into its wind, but run: into the night into tomorrow into the freeing, rain washed blue and fall into the sky. as trees flash out in glory from the last burnt lights of summer, flash out yourself in untamed colors far beyond this spectrum.