The Cycle

These eyes look as vision fades

Into darkened, dampened forest glades

Russet hues and yellows burn

As Fall takes its three-month  turn

Towards the dark of winter’s cold

The cycle of life to death to life

The way of all things we are told

In myth and legend’s that foretell strife

We are but passing flotsam

Cast upon a naked shoreline

Silently mouthing the words ‘I am’

Consciously murmuring in time

To the mood-swelled tidal forces

In an early primeval dawning

As the heated blood now courses

Pumped through growing limbs entwining

Our everlasting souls soaring

To find the Sun and its nourishing light

In which to find our way through second sight

Back home

 

 

 

 

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