Summer is the harshest
Season-filled with lonliness
And realization of surroundings.
The revolting world will not
Allow for its inhabitants to
View the true bliss and secret
To life: Ignorance.
The Inhabitants feel that
Knowledge is everything;
One is nothing without it.
Knowledge is death. Death
Is knowing of the world
And being fortunate
Enough to leave its misery,
Forcing the rest to slump
Through.

A great man
Once declared that one day
All shall know the wonders
Of Purple Summer. I
Feel that his words have
Been mistaken for mere beauty
Of poetry while they were
Truely meant as warning.
Once all know the wonders
Of beloved Purple Summer,
The world will end and Death
Itself will die.

Knowledge is not power.
We should fear the season
Summer and long for eternal
Winter of Spring- granting
The world to forgetfulness
And youth. Maybe the Heavens
Are beginning to punish
Us for our lust for fire of knowledge,
As summer yearns to engulf
The world- it has now been
Promised that one day the
Areas of forgetful slumber
Will melt under charges unfairly
Placed such as that of Elphaba.

But Summer is cruel-
Indulging those dazed by
The influence of Spring
Into actions beyond words.
I sometimes think of the
Sins of humanity and I
Think that none can be saved.
We will all be damned as Prometheus
For our spread of fire in lust,
Science, technology, and medicine.

I sit under the bright summer
Sky, unsure if the warmth
Pulsing into my skin is from
Light or Fire. I long for the Harvest
That makes way for the Blizzard-
Letting us start over as Spring approaches.
But the Crops have died and shriveled from the
Dry, cracked earth; Blizzards
Are replaced by temporary
Cold-frints which are powerless
Against the raging Summer sun.

I wish I can forget all
I know; erase the corruption
The world has drowned me in.
However, looking up at the
Intense, golden sun, there
Is no hope left.