The circle…

As time passes on and autumn sets in
A curtain of leaves falls down with the wind
The mists as a wall between the heartbroken trees
I walk through the shadows which nobody sees
My hand holds a drop from the cry of a cloud
As the sun moves away in the absence of drought

This drop holds the essence, it’s where it begins
And it holds the history of thousands of springs
As my skin is soaked in life and it’s death
I close my eyes and shed the last summers breath
My lungs are filled with the chilled winter storm
From which in time a new life will be formed

Like summer I feel that I’m dyeing within
But I don’t have a fears that my life won’t begin
When this drop will fall on the after snow fields
With the only hope that the once broken heals
This is why I love, and live, my life
As the circle of seasons cuts in like a knife…