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.