the third weather (part 1)
Even the largest most glorious trees
bending down with branches weighted
golden leaves of late autumn
can burn, slowly.
Like this, like a tree being eaten away
tongues of flame, failing people and things.
this fallen world, nothing is perfect
things suffer
in lingering misery giving up the ghost
crumbling into grey forsaken ruins
people stumble trip and suffer
through the pain.
Feet pass up and down the streets,
weathering the brunt of the storm
Feet pass, muddy broken and stumbling,
frail and frailer.
In the midst trudged Emilia,
a single human in a wide world
Emilia like a stone cold statue
tried to block the pain.
In the midst of the piercing laughter
the pain, mirth and sadness,
humor and shrieks of long suffering,
It wouldn’t block easily.
