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Poetry: “On fall”

A slightly darker take on the season, perhaps.


On fall

What is fall
But a slow dying
Of natural causes
All the greenery
Finding themselves
At the end of their cycle
As light and warmth
Are slowly stolen
From the air
Nothing can stop
That slow rotation
Of planet away from the sun
Like we cannot alter
The similarly slow decay
Of our own bodies
A force of nature
And the only comfort
Is that when all things die
Their decay
Become the basis
The very source of life
As it has always been


Copyright © 2016 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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