Sitting outside, and staring at the vast cloudy firmaments;
The heavens are a pristine mirror of the mental universe -
Cultivating another conception from the vision it presents;
Gestating thought as the pen, upon the page, will traverse.
Eyes move now to the once green leaves,
All which remains is the frames of the trees.
Still firm, are the bark`s skeletal branches;
The twigs remind of annual second chances.
Coursing through the grains of entangled bark,
There is an energy, existence’s invisible spark.
Though empty, the large brown husks appear
There is much life, the chill has yet to shear.
Dying above, underground - their activity, concealed roots
doesn`t show –
(And like the first stanza`s immeasurable grey skies
Which also lie within each individual`s set of eyes)
Despite the cold, all things on this earth continue to
develop and grow.
Composed By: A. D.
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