In a forest blowing ashes from
the bonfires of our lives,
the sun above thecanopy
throbbed like a heart,
and screamed for October.
The blood itpulsed
was the white of colored light,
blended and brilliant,
and myeyes were afire.
And once my mind was occupied,
the feeling left from myaching feet,
and I followed its trail
knowing that soon enough
it woulddim, and the face
would turn from lightning white
to a sulkygrey-blue,
and the fire would spread from my eyes
to thetreetops.
She'll send the winds to calm the blaze,
I'll just wait and waitfor
The inky ashes to tumble to the ground.
And when it's all over,
I'llfeel it has passed,
as though it was a dream, still whispering in myears.