...^*^...
Isn't it the paradigm of nature,
She forces you to see
The larks' abandonment, and the elixir of strength
drained completely from the sky,
Like the scarlet rain of death, now pale and cold.
Everything weak, feeble and tired.
But change is the wheel of the potter,
Shaping beauty into something different
With the slightest indentation.
So the earth revoked her redundant regalia,
Evicted the palace for the field once more,
And engraved on the gravestones with her sceptre;
'Remember,
Not one will wipe your tears when you sob all alone.
It's the wind inside enables you to run and survive.
She dries your tears.
She fuels the life and fire in you.
Don't let it stagnate around you,
Don't let it brew a storm inside you.
Dream of the dawn at the peak,
the wreath of morning glory,
And ashes of the lost diadem.'
...^*^...
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Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
