As I sat and watched them, memories of an intoxicated season of joy submerged all thought.
Leaves of the most coruscating colour witnessed in waking recollection, were dancing as celestial snowflakes, on the restless breeze.
Ethereal storm clouds spoke of an ancient battle between earth and sky, yet I was content to witness their fury.
I could have sat there, immovable as stone, until the ages of this world had passed away.
For in watching withered foliage, I lost myself, and sorrow relinquished a glacial clutch upon my soul.
Those lost children, dead and jaded, caught in perpetual motion, were somehow my kinsfolk.
Frozen air whipped past me, speaking in the strange tongues of the primordial world, and I understood.
Gaia released her weaponry, light faded as the distant sun turned away, anxious leaves shone in the gloom.
I transcended to a higher realm, my vision focussed still on the heavenly flight of the rustic subjects.
Alas, the crusade ceased, and the realm of life was calm again, the autumn martyrs became still once more.
I departed that majestic garden, and realised I was in the midst of an awesome deluge.
Yet memory shall always speak of a divine glimpse into the aura of perception, where all burden is myth, and completion is but love.
Leaves of the most coruscating colour witnessed in waking recollection, were dancing as celestial snowflakes, on the restless breeze.
Ethereal storm clouds spoke of an ancient battle between earth and sky, yet I was content to witness their fury.
I could have sat there, immovable as stone, until the ages of this world had passed away.
For in watching withered foliage, I lost myself, and sorrow relinquished a glacial clutch upon my soul.
Those lost children, dead and jaded, caught in perpetual motion, were somehow my kinsfolk.
Frozen air whipped past me, speaking in the strange tongues of the primordial world, and I understood.
Gaia released her weaponry, light faded as the distant sun turned away, anxious leaves shone in the gloom.
I transcended to a higher realm, my vision focussed still on the heavenly flight of the rustic subjects.
Alas, the crusade ceased, and the realm of life was calm again, the autumn martyrs became still once more.
I departed that majestic garden, and realised I was in the midst of an awesome deluge.
Yet memory shall always speak of a divine glimpse into the aura of perception, where all burden is myth, and completion is but love.
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a penny for your thoughts