Fall

Falling fire lands in piles of embers on the green grass, and defeated match sticks hold on to the last remnants of life. All true things shrivel up in protection. The old and worn out float carelessly to the ground almost as warnings to the little ones of what happens to spent life. A thick and grainy coat guards tender secrets, and as rough as it is, so it is needed against a horribly harsh and cold location. All things are usilent now as the clock has wound down, so the breeze bellows the eternal bells; additionally, one last bend and the equal of fifty years gets carried away farther than we could imagine.

Day

Each day with solemnity I step forth,

And through each step I see the open future.

Inside my body I move with silence,

So once again I am fluid as in the beginning.

Breath lights my muscles and buzzes among my dendrites. Out in the globe of blue, green and gold I am what all of their eyes see. When lights die, the moon does shatter, and the blanket of night is cast over us all that is the time when I am no more than a shadow. The blazing orb appears, the world's encasement fades to bright blue, so the night returns to its slumber that is the time I revive from the coma into a vibrant form.