September Dream: Time is short...

A Poem by Kandil

An arrival, a visitor, a merge between universal changes, a history from the future and prophecy from the past, a melding of powers, a melody of peace, holding within a breeze of tenderness and warmth__ the warmth of chill. Over the horizon appeared a cloud, a grey one, neither sad nor evil, a wave of peace overwhelms, announcing a time for serenity, a break from chains, a state of recovery, a time to collect the scrambles and heal the wounds, a beclouded glimmers of warmth, a transformation and a beginning of an end. A bench once was void; found a mate, a hoary man with a book, who finds his way into the scene, shuffling on the move, creating a symphony by caressing the leaves on the ground. He sits and merges with the glorious portray. A bird overpowered by fatigue, found on a leafless branch, of an ancient tree, a call for peace and serenity; for time is short.

Arrays of the neighboring sun, timidly found its way to the concourse of the ground, abandoning skins and gaze; for it is time to repose; not for long though; for time is short. And yet when life seems to get on hold, and pace is about to slow, a gush of wind blows, a power that heals the pain, a force that drives the heart to praise and the soul to disengage. A golden leaf, wingless though dives the skies, worrying about nothing ahead, careless about the landing point, for certain it will find a place, a shelter, a house; a warm space. A butterfly swinging around and dazzling the peaceful blossoms joins in a race, for time is short, bringing life and motion to the apparently stagnant landscape. A brief span; not for long, but enough to create a change, a time that provoke the souls to embark into melodies of the fairy tales, how you see it dark, and a mix of white and black; for the silvery hue and golden shines span the overview, a time when mystery overrules, and emotions erupt from deep inside; creating a glorious and enigmatic colorful hue. The golden leaf flying high, finally lands on a frail shelf, a vulnerable support; the old man’s shoulder. Unaware of this miracle, immersed he was, pouring out words that ultimately found their way into the pages of his book, again in a race; for time is short. Centuries passed by, thoughts were endless, butterflies became scarce, and the wind matured more powerfully to blow hard, fearless against any shield, warning for a change; for time is short. The blowing wind excused the old man for it was time to depart, interrupting the flow of endless thoughts. Unaware while walking away; a leaf was glimpsing over his thoughts, from over his shoulder, reading his words, promised to never let go, oathed patiently to wait for the next century to come, to learn the end of words; for time is short...

© 2019 Kandil

Author's Note

Wish you a great September ....

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Reviews

Benita-Staebell M - Kin..

a melody of peace holding in it a breeze of tenderness and warmth__ the warmth of chill. Over the horizon appeared a cloud, a grey one, not sad nor evil, a wave of peace overwhelms, announcing a time for serenity, a break from chains, a state of recovery, the time to collect the scrambles and heal the wounds, a coat of warmth and becloud of glimmers, a state of transformation and a beginning of an end.

Very Beautiful and Elegant a lovely
story I enjoyed reading thank you for sharing.

Blessings. Benita