Autumnal-hued embers fade with majesty
Their warmth a caressing balm upon skin
The contrasting potency of the moon magnifies its earthly dominance
Sitting alone; reconciling this single-life’s insignificant history consumes thought
The will to dream of blossom-laden avenues inviting possibilities long abandoned
Is this still living when rhyme and reason no longer hold court?
And dependable escapism eludes; rapture so harshly neglected
Will the early morn sun gently tease the sleepy eye?
Or will the capturing darkness bring release?