…as a spring blossom

The last dead leaves are burning, as winter draws closer
their fiery funeral smoulders out
’til smothered in extinctions’ final doubt
‘Why I am moved more easily now?’
words brushed by quiet whispers
one more forgotten promise
the sound of each and every leaf is pain
the door to tears is open
and I am as fragile as a spring blossom
so soon our separation
my heart is forgotten
as a drop of water, in a storm
like the struggle against the sea
‘Who taught the swallows
to make so light of parting?’
now the path is lost
now it is time
‘Who can predict when we may meet
or when again we must part?’
as you leave, the gentle breeze goes too
into the dying night, just as a dying leaf
as impermanent, as existence
finally returns to rest
and as passions, at the end of time, expires
no longer fuelled by evil from the past
the purgatorial flames die down at last
now finally blown out, returning to rest
empty verandas
that echo with unheard footsteps
feel suddenly hollow
a gentle sorrow
amidst a rush of tears
tender souls so far apart
like wafting silks, this floating life
‘Where shall this controlling wind
let my soul alight at last?’
in time we shall find peace
the dreams of the night
fade with the morning sunlight
gone like morning clouds
by too many lonesome miles
the wrinkles on the coverlet
the last of the blossoms
the down of willow flowers
comes falling, floating down
the nature of the wind is impermanent
a distant heart, desiring less and less
and possessing nothing
I am not possessed
all down the years
all that the mind forgets
are now colours in the mist
yet still
still, I am drawn
to ever search for you
upon the endless shores of dreams
© Ann Bagnall