Autumn Is Necessary
Missing the luxurious lush green of verdant spring.
When autumn chafes against the soul
Reluctant of letting go all that summer had to offer
We do not proffer from resentment
Find, we may contentment with the season immediately upon the boughs,
The leaves all fallen and secretly feeding unseen mysteries in the soil
Tender shoots then rise from the breast of young men past
The good never lasts…
Renewal’s corollary: destruction is perpetual
And grass is proof there is no death
In the greatest pain of our memories, all comparative,
Seeds the future from counter-fit narratives
And while truth may die in the breasts of men…
Yet the grass is proof there is no death.
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