Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Monday, November 14, 2011

Falling



we are arriving at the gate
as the leaves fall all around
there are pirouettes of gold
there are reds like formal gowns
there are humans in the sounds
they are sinking in the ground
like the leaves in autumn's dance
death becomes the last romance

the gates of iron are so cold
the locks are broken and serene
these things open in the dark
just as promises careen
there are humans in the sounds
they are sinking in the ground
like the leaves in autumn's dance
death becomes the last romance

we are not the other ones
we are not beyond the sun
we are not always in spring
we are not just anything
we are falling
we are falling
we are falling, then we're done

in the forest is the hut
where the monkeys count the days
where a calendar is coins
where the moon is just a phase
there are humans in the sounds
they are sinking in the ground
like the leaves in autumn's dance
death becomes the last romance

i was hoping for a trip
to the desert rocks of yore
i would climb into the sky
i would open up the door
there are humans in the sounds
they are sinking in the ground
like the leaves in autumn's dance
death becomes the last romance

we are not the other ones
we are not beyond the sun
we are not always in spring
we are not just anything
we are falling
we are falling
we are falling, then we're done

***

2 Comments:

At 10:34 PM, Blogger Oscar said...

Beautiful. I'd really like to find a way to sing that.

 
At 5:25 PM, Blogger mjs said...

Thanks Oscar--best wishes to you and yours!

 

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