Nothing

Tattered corpses of leaves
Are cradled by the wind
As the earth weeps
The horizon holds no surprises
It is distant and bleak
Swiftly comes the pain, harshly
There is nothing here for me
In the midst of pure morning
I am overwhelmed, weak
Softly comes a voice, gently
I cannot bring myself to hear
There is nothing but sorrow
And it, I cannot quaff
Slipped away, gone, are most things
Most dear
To the stars, I am blind
Make me to be mute and deaf
One with my surroundings
Ascerbic sorrow burns holes
In my being
Darkness swallows
The tattered leaves

Reviews

[...]

. it's only recently that i realized that erosion and disintegration are steps to evolution ... the journey is painful and tedious ... but i sense that you have more than ample strength to make it ... beautiful poetry again ... these images are as haunting as they are consuming and moving ...