How strange that we should find such beauty in
The withering of that which sustains us
That the reds and the yellows and the browns
Should give a sense of rejuvenation
When they will merely signify the end
Until the laws of the earth will claim them
Leaving only lifelessness to survey

So quickly the world turns beauty to ash
Stripping the flash of our utopia
Rendering dreams we touch to silhouettes
Grasping at the wisps of the fading past
We are left with only brushed fingertips

Though the white is the ending of it all
I will remain entranced within the fall