Autumn Morning

Words mean so little sometimes, they only explore the shallows of our hearts, dutifully express the barest corner of our minds, and truly capture a faint echo of our souls. They desire to say so much, eager to outwardly create the passionate intensity of an achingly beautiful symphony of joy, anger, love, hate, envy, sorrow, laughter. Tears stream down your face and your hands are locked so hard sorrow runs rivers down your body, time stops still and the world spins around so gracefully you're captivated by joy hushed into awe. To create a picture of that so simple, so complex whirlwind of emotions locked within us we ransom desperation, gather hope. We want to shout from the top of a mountain until our throats are hoarse and as we struggle to thrust away the constraints of a language, an expression we have limited ourselves to, we find we are only able to whisper.

I woke this morning from a golden slumber
as rev'rence held still the early air
and emerald leaves bronzed in countless number
while whisper winds played upon my hair.

I tasted passion in a red burnished dawn,
a sky dimmed with beckoning freedom
and turning, lay my heart in a simple bond
at the dainty feet of a graceful Autumn.

My fingers ran through her long bronzed tresses
spilled 'cross my chest in silken folds.
My silence fallen to her breath's caresses
beneath those soft-spun leaves of gold.

And I laid her down gently in valleys deep
the veiled depths of a golden kingdom
watched over her who watched over me
lost in the quiet of a graceful Autumn.