Love Poem

With bedfellow of wind, that blow,

Cold and endless,

Red, brown, yellow, gold

Autumn leaves ball their dance,

Crinkle through their existence

And crawl from aisle to path.

Controlled by fate, are they

Or by chance?

Fragile, like animal minds

That can be trod on,

Crushed:

Slighting down the road,

Like man, abject to man,

Brightly colored, but false,

Like humankind’s façade;

The blatant exterior, and the alveolate being,

Enslaved by the wind,

The ability it cannot overthrow,

So man succumbs to nature,

And to fate,

Once shriveled, these lives don’t recover

And crumple into oblivion

Countless, like the stars above

Their souls dot the horizon

And below, like the wind,

Into realms yet not explored.

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