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third_eye's cavern

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From: a final dance


SHaYap

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in meadows of wild colored blooms,

petals of all imaginable and unexpected designs,

a canopy of multi colored blanket stretches,

adorning the land

across valleys,

Summer dresses a hill in modest blooms,

alike a flowing flowery skirt,

caught in gentle Spring gusts,

a landscape in imitation of a comely maiden,

sways sensously rooted in hectic celebration,

ever in motion to an invisible minstrel's charms,

a sea of botanical buds,

declares war on the ever only green,

impassioned pleas of loud tints and tones,

stolen of rainbows,

paraded with simple intentions,

momentary glories in captured honey chambers,

cascading ransoms of pollen, appeases the squadron of time hardened messengers,

such sacrifice to seeds and fruit,

to Fall again

crushed beneath cycles of seasons,

readies the land for virgin white Winter,

a cold bride to endure the fever of coming fullness,

a sleep of plentiful promises,

unbroken since time immemorial,

revealed in the moment,

a shade of a humble aged giant,

is laid crashed and torn,

the final dance with the seasons,

witnessed never more...

~third_eye @SHaYAP©

Source: a final dance

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