Autumn Meditation

Here at the downward spiral of the year,

Where the bright golden light deceives my heart,

I rest upon the certainty of change --

Death shall not stay despite his guileful art.

Here, in the shadows, toadstools rise and fall

In one day’s space. Life turns, and turns away,

Dancing its seasons on this spinning orb

Whilst we await a brighter, better day.

Flesh calls to flesh, but skies so sudden sharp

Pierce my defences to the naked soul;

And I must fall, as these bright leaves must fall,

Yielding my goldenness as rightful toll.

Here, even now, the winter gathers in

For its assault, its bending down to dark.

And I must go where every creature goes,

Down into night, where hope is a bare spark.

Yet in this quelling ebb-tide of the sun

I shall not dread the fears that gather close

That haunting terror I have met before,

Dressed as imagination can impose.

This too shall pass, as every season spins

To time’s finality and earth’s last breath

Blossoming to that Spring that cannot fade

Where we find rest upon the Death of Death.