and so it grows...

 and so it is
the cycle reclaims

its past and future

repeating reduplicating recapitulating

the fallen heroes submit

in crimson veneration
rendering resigning reconciling

their mother trunk
deprived once more
robbed raped ravaged

with barren branches
limbs and stems
requiem reposes remains 
defoliation complete
at autumnal equinox 
regrowth renewed rebirth 
and so it grows

to passion and phoenixes...

 - our passions are the true phoenixes -

when the old one is burnt out

a new one rises from its ashes

from fields of corn...

her pregnant gut she chose to hide
until the day ordained to die
when all the earth did open wide
and let them out from deep inside


then those with wings who just were born
when from her deep dark womb were torn
did rise at last from fields of corn
to summon forth a new day’s morn


the waters rose and washed away
the hearts of those who could not stay
who with their deeds did dark the days
and prayers alone could not them save

the autumnal sacrifice...

and so it is
the cycle reclaims

its past and future

repeating reduplicating recapitulating

the fallen heroes submit

in crimson veneration
rendering resigning reconciling

their mother trunk
deprived once more
robbed raped ravaged

with barren branches
limbs and stems
requiem reposes remains

defoliation complete
at autumnal equinox

regrowth renewed rebirth

and so it grows

les feuilles de nos vies...inspired by "L'automne qui se meurt"

their generative veins of
red and orange and gold and brown
struggling straining suffering
holding together the decaying
fragments of a life now gone
in their autumnal sacrificial demise
ordained in the moment of their budding birth
give valiantly the indispensable victuals
for life

anew