An Ode to Autum

 

by Pablo Arimany

 

Close your eyes,

seek darkness. Orange is here,

it         surrounds          you,

it moves, like twirling warmth;

a heartbeat, cascading into your roots,

that breaks deeper than your consciousness.

 

 

An abundance of water, covering you like a cloak,

layered with ice, filling you with warmth,

 

 

                             waves dancing, like shaking curtains,

that remind you of cradles,

a wrinkled hand rocking it,

                like branches that would enter through the window,

savagely caressing you, softly like a lullaby.

And your hair had          fallen,

cut off by unborn time, by stale scissors

like leaves,           evaporating,           into nothingness;

fumes of a last breath, like chimney clouds, escaping into a void

                                    of unrecognizable familiarities,

                                    an unknown pair of shoes,

                                    dancing alien steps

                                    in a dematirialized ball room,

virgin like unpainted canvas,

like remnants of your dead ended corner in this world, in flames,

a roof of smoke, flying away like smudged out words

                    waiting

for your head to become a careful doodle,

         a constellation of unconnected stars,

         mad, random words, so perfectly sane

for that one inspiration to pick up a chalk,

and paint your hand to grow.  

 

 

Close your eyes,

seek darkness. Blue is here,

it            surrounds              you,

it moves, like twirling warmth;

a heartbeat, cascading into your roots,

that breaks deeper than your consciousness.

Blue is here.