Autumn
Forlorn I sit, shrunken, bare
whilst the verges of my will flicker faintly.
May that be the lusus naturae
which resides in me so permanently?

What once was a voice, now
but a mere breath floats alloyed,
yearning for that light, yet bound
to relish in mere mundane void.

Through mute hail trot strayed utterances,
two unduly fickle paragons
and the psyche, distant, gone, suspires
for Eirene’s mere appearances.

In depths within, sleepless Aether
hears declared with utmost obscenity
the efforts futile to achieve the
known forms of clarity

for too her visions will meet their end
and vanish, just like morning vapour,
call for corpses to ascend and
to keep her company.

For now, she’s bound to drift along
dim halls, awaiting her demise
clutching to those who’ve passed
while Woe is me! she cries.

In an instant, all turned still
As my eyes, infirm, yet thrilled
turned towards the sky.
And there light, marigold and spry,

blazes in the Autumn tree.
‘T is a sweet reward, that timber sight.
As Diana reaches out her hand

Within leaves of gold burns a symphony.

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