Quiescence
Piquance retires to dormancy.
Cold besieged the waning blaze
As days take longer sleep
For now,
And I take shelter in dreaming.
.
My spirit drops
To quiecence
This time.
I travel still, but ~
Only now my journey
Moves inward.
Winter wouldn’t freeze
Life’s pagination.
Snowfalls bring
Frosty slate
Of pristine pages
Ready for my thoughts
To carve icy tracks.
As my mind skids down
To quiescence ~
For now.
.
I wrap myself
To nothingness
From your view,
Retiring to my cocoon
For my travels
This time
Points inward.
.
I chase the wake of change
Where sunrise breaks on ridges ~
The towering ridges
That lies on quiescence
.
Within.
Autumn Dance
The rhythm slowed
The pitch dropped
The beats from the drums of summer
Are halted ~ adrenaline waned ~
To give way to the mild strumming of the cords
Switching the sound mood to acoustics.
.
The dancers changed costume
In colors, but tinged
With earthy tones.
The stage is decorated with melancholy.
The lights subdued,
Shadows more pronounced
From bright to dim.
.
And then the autumn dance begins.
.
The dancers take their grand entrance from above;
Pirouetting in the air
Following the rhythms of the wind ~
The rustling sound ~ their music.
.
The show enraptures
To a colorful dance
As the players in the grandest
Of the show
Take their fleeting turns
On the stage,
Suspended in mid-air,
Before they take a bow
To an inevitable finale ~
.
One by one ~
.
They fall to the grounds
Of happy ending
Leaving such lovely clutter ~
.
One by one ~
.
They take their corners
Creating colorful tapatries
Covering the earth floors
Like quilts where they become
Momentary insulation
To pulsating inhabitants
Against the impending cold ~
One by one ~
.
They take their exit
To a good autumn rest
And winter sleep ~
.
One by one ~
.
The audience leave the outdoors,
Acquiescent and resigned
To the shelter
Of their roofs, the brick walls
Taking refuge in the hearth
Of the once dormant fireplace
Now awake.
.
One by one
The dancers and the audience leave.
The autumn dance ends
To a freeze.
.
My mind figure skates
As I hear the approaching
Crystal-like sound
Of winter.
Fathomed
There’s something inside this mind
That needs to be written.
There’s some story in this ground I tread
That needs to be told,
In time ~
Under every corner of the skies,
Strewn in the places we inhabit,
Are kernel of tales
Awaiting the break of day
To give it light
So we may fathom the mysteries
Ingrained beneath,
Take notice ~
I paid each speck of details
Parading by my facade
The precious attention it deserves.
I’m not content just passing glances.
For a moment I give myself,
Completely ~
An spectator engrossed
Taking the precious gifts
Others may have declined,
And failed to see,
The beauty in little things ~
I refused to ignore.
Moments pass by swiftly,
But I noticed the colorful confetti
From the autumn canopies above me
and the crisp rustling
Of the autumn leaves carpeting my paths
As I walk on,
In brisk ~
Romancing the breeze of long ago,
Carrying the same dusts
Of generations that once walked this path.
A piece of me stays here:
A drop of sweat, of tear
A skin peel, a strand of hair
Mixing with the quilts of time
And I move forth,
Questions answered ~
Fathomed ~
In time,
Take notice
Completely
The beauty in little things
In brisk,
And find me there.
Fathomed.
jeques
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