the change (original) (raw)

The leaves are on fire, falling from the trees like angels from an uninhabitable expanse of darkness
they cover my feet as ashes in mourning showing a picture of you from the forlorn apparatus above
the image is not drawn to scale
and It makes you seem closer than you truly are
Is it selfish of me to wish desperately that this portrayal of you was adequately proportional to real life?
that what i see in the representation is what is absolute
Is it ignorant of me also to convince myself that the depiction is possible?
that you may be as close as you seem?
a personage of beauty stands on the threshold of my heart, just out of reach
reason condemns my perceptual desire for its benightedness
is what i see in the ashen leaves not reasonable?
my eagerness for the truth has concealed me from it
leaves fall in flame to incite change
and bring to my eyes a purposed false reality for them to fall victim to
your image fades amidst a landscape of empty trees and broken memories
a last leaf falls
no flame