The Fall

Thoughts fall, like leaves from a tree

Replaced quicker than the eye can see

Like the wind that waits for leaves to dry

The gust of desire waits, feigning to be patient and shy

Fallen thoughts never reach their root

They burn alongside desire, filling the mind with soot

The rake of reflection comes handy

Only we can clean what we’ve made, a palace or a shanty

When leaves change color, it warns of the winter

Taken in by thoughts’ changing color, we splinter

And become like a dead log floating on the river of desire

A flowing river takes us lower, and not higher

Leaves have their brief moment in the sun

Roots are everlasting, where they live we say it’s dark and no fun

The flickering light of desire lead thoughts through change

We become the fallen by giving up evergreen roots in exchange