This October evening…..

this lovely October evening,

with all her whispering shadows

and the red-golden meadows,

is mine

She is mine to behold

and mine to perceive

and mine to mould

And in calling her ‘Mine!’,

there is a strange comfort,

which cannot be sought

in either music or wine

I feel as if I am a Sylph, a poetic fantasy

the autumn moon, simple and pure ecstasy

I roam the night air and float

so very near, yet remote

I watch all and feel all;

feelings – either big or small

I watch all and feel all;

but I am not a part of this at all

The rains are born slow; drop by drop;

the drops transforming into torrents;

the torrents drenching the parched earth

But sometimes the gods are in a good mood;

they wave and the angry clouds burst forth;

the torrents drenching the parched earth

There is a stink, the fumes assaulting my senses

the stink of a city of sick souls and dead hearts

Where do you head to,

when you are heading

nowhere in particular?

What do you think of,

when you are thinking

of nothing in particular?

What do you see and what do you look for,

in the beauty of a glorious dawn?

Is it a face or is it a memory or maybe a glimpse,

or perhaps a loved one, who is now gone?

The day is white and burning,

scalding and suffocating;

full of test and trials

Then comes the evening,

nothing to celebrate or rejoice,

yet the evening smiles

When the blessed kiss the holy grounds each winter;

while the downtrodden can only dream and cry

They sing and dream of the mercy and blessings;

while their reality resides under the harsh sky