If she could​.​.​.

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In black leaves the red of autumned scars tremble by her loneliness, and blood, as though rained from wandering legs who which have carried and torn for the endless sorrow beyond the will of the sky, ever so quietly slips from Mother's roots... loving its way to the desolate ground...

She buries her loss, lost in burial, fallen in itself by the unworded touch, kissed by love. For that last moment she stared at the face, in despair filled beauty. She stared back, aspite the evanescence which clasped so tightly the rejoice of love, in its most painful, purest form...

At the glimpse of her knees, fell to the earth and grave in grace of a brideless orphan. She cries to the forest sparse of anyone... at the edge of every mournful word her wrists run off light astray, parting the knowing for if anyone can hear her sing, or if finally the existential vineyard left a note...

To lore the loom of branches, she won't know
To love another autumn... So speaks her helpless voice

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from Like a Higanbana to the Elegy, released December 20, 2013

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