Colours in the Mist
The last dead leaves are burnt
as winter nears
their fiery funeral smoulders out
’til smothered
in extinction’s final doubt
‘Why I am moved more easily now?’
words brushed by quiet whispers
one more forgotten promise
the sound of each
and every leaf is pain
the door of tears is open
and I am fragile as a spring blossom
so soon our separation
my heart is as a drop of water in a storm
like the struggle against the sea
‘Who taught the swallows
to make so light of parting?’
now the path is lost
now it is time
‘Who can predict when we may meet
or when again we must part?’
forgotten, as a drop of water
in a storm
as you leave
the gentle breeze goes too
in the dying night
like a dying leaf
impermanent as existence
finally returns to rest
as passions
at the end of time expire
no longer fuelled
by evil from the past
the purgatorial flames
die down at last
and finally blown out
return to rest
empty verandas
that echo
with unheard footsteps
feel suddenly hollow
a gentle sorrow
amidst a rush of tears
tender souls so far apart
like wafting silks, this floating life
‘Where shall this controlling wind
let my soul alight at last?’
in time we shall find peace
the dreams of the night
fade with the morning sunlight
gone like morning clouds
by too many lonesome miles
the wrinkles on the coverlet
the last of the blossoms
the down of willow flowers
comes falling
floating down
the nature of the wind
is impermanent
a distant heart
desiring less and less
possessing nothing
I am not possessed
all down the years
all that the mind forgets
are colours in the mist now
yet still
still, I am drawn
to ever search for you
upon the endless shores of dreams
© Ann Bagnall
2012
