original prose – Page 8 – Back to the Monastery

I dream of you
but I never see
the part where you
are close to me

I hear your voice
I know you’re there

I see the faint outline
of your hair

is it I who feel
unworthy of thee?

but for a touch,
my soul would be free

breath deeply
the scent of Autumn is fleeting
soon it will be gone
it’s heart no longer beating

and I will lie alone
upon the forest floor
that soft sweet taste, Summer’s kiss
gone forever more

when the day began
uncertainty
was in the air
a sparsity of light
optimism had taken flight
gone
I know not where

and then, before I knew it,
life had passed me by.
or so it seemed,
perhaps I dreamed.
was it reality?
or just a lie?

i am hiding
in places you can’t find
silent hollow places
in the corners of my mind
I don’t mean to
it’s just the pull
of self preservation
that seems to be
stronger than me

no longer blessed
with a Summer dress

bared for all to see
your fragility

played out in
an Autumn dance

a silent sadness.

let Summer pass.

seek beauty
in it’s absence,
and peace

in whispered
mourning.

walk softly
walk slowly.
whisper
when you speak.

give in to that
which you deem holy,
and you
will no longer
seek.

so high above
where eagles fly
go the hopes
of you and I

as lonely as a unheard sigh
Autumns breeze blows gently by
and leaves me here
to wonder why

it cannot carry you