What is purpose if
Chesterton's Labyrinth
proves true.
The arrow of time
continues
As we dissolve into
the blue.
A certain crispness
fills the air
And autumn has arrived
To set life's stage
and show
All has been
contrived.
Unplowed fields lay
fallow.
Shame built from
despair.
The watchers keep
watching
While the doers only
stare.
What path can be found
If all are unattended.
Badly broken, bleeding
hearts
Are sad and unmended.
Is your house in
order?
Do you sense the
reeling?
Can you sense the
softest glow
while cold darkness is
stealing?
Winter waits, willing
yet impatient.
Frost with effort will
freeze.
In our time of living,
stalled.
To hibernate with
leafless trees.
Yet over yon horizon
met
With serenity so
filled.
The sun and warming
heat awaits
The proper hour
billed.
Those left standing
after all
The freezing air
dissipates.
There may be fewer
around,
And we simply
congregate
To tell of woes and
grieve.
Season's losses, vast
and unreal.
Incomplete harvest
leads to
deadly Winter's
earthen feel.
Hope rides high and
fresh.
Spring begets new
green.
Promises of man's
bitter life
Begin again unseen.
