View From My Window
Autumn's Skin
Autumn falling in leaves of spring,
leaves its imprint of bliss upon my upturned cheek.
In pain, in torment, in sympathetic turn,
we take the bright spots and pat them
until they leave a mark on our skin.
Disappointment fills our heads like glass.
We troop through a burning forest of
trees, leaving the bark withered, like black charcoal.
Autumn is every day, Autumn is the burning flame.
Autumn is the sky, the ground,
the trees; there is no stone
but the upturned brow.
Life is the richly seamed cloth that has been turned
into jewels and gems. Let it be known that I am not
suffering, I am
following the path of my ancestors,
encrypted in a gold book several thousand years ago by
the great Master Lao Tzu. This is my destiny; this is
yours.
leaves its imprint of bliss upon my upturned cheek.
In pain, in torment, in sympathetic turn,
we take the bright spots and pat them
until they leave a mark on our skin.
Disappointment fills our heads like glass.
We troop through a burning forest of
trees, leaving the bark withered, like black charcoal.
Autumn is every day, Autumn is the burning flame.
Autumn is the sky, the ground,
the trees; there is no stone
but the upturned brow.
Life is the richly seamed cloth that has been turned
into jewels and gems. Let it be known that I am not
suffering, I am
following the path of my ancestors,
encrypted in a gold book several thousand years ago by
the great Master Lao Tzu. This is my destiny; this is
yours.
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Autumn`s Skin
Autumn`s Skin
