Following a stream deep into a forest
Every tree bears a familiar essence
And the wind whispers my secrets back to me;
I pull my hood around my ears
To stifle the confessions of my soul.
In a particular copse of trees
Deep within my subconscious,
I meet my shadow in a deepening shade
And she falls into step.
Sensing my unwillingness to address the current conditions,
Shadow begins to speak of the weather—
It’s been cold in here, Girl,
What happened to The Sun?
Attempting to sound casual
I answer that The Sun has turned his back on me.
Well what about the birds?She queries
I answer: they cease to sing for me.
And the flowers?
Without The Sun
Without the music
They lost the will to bloom.
It has left us dark and sombre, even the moon
Is afraid to shine too bright…
But, we shall never lack for rain.

09/23/2004

Posted on 09/23/2004
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