The Poisonous Mushrooms

Watching from the shore for long, tides and waves roll with a rhythmic beat all foretold. New blossoms of temple flowers bloom, As some did fall face first to the ground in sweet surrender. “Oh dancing leaves on this rainy day! Dance how you may lest you sway.” At the sea’s edge, a rush of wind parts memories left far behind... With remorse stood I conjuring the self-imposed torture; with pain that soared with the cross I bear. Like the dancing dew drop that rolleth from the blade of the staggering leaf on a withering tree, like a merry soldier whistling his final tune to the tip of the guillotine, looking skyward stood I dripping in complete surrender. The zenith had no bounds and the nadir inched too deep; wanting to dissolve in the hastened fury, complacency the soul rendered; knowing for sure that certain dreams are better gone when awake. The wine rolleth well, piercing those buds screaming for more. Till the blood-red wine knoweth not if its the blood or the wine that tasteth so well in the mouth it rolls. "My poisonous mushrooms! Left behind with the serpent's kiss, knowing too well and none better than he will know what he knows best… that he desires to be plucked undeserving to be tasted; unless death beckons the soul from deep for the one who plucketh."