Soon season's truth
cruelly lingers, looms,
moves to darken daylit view;
as dusk encroaches, colors move,
hues reduced and trees left mute.

You cannot wish
or want or choose
wildflowers too
wont wilt where grew
as if futilely doomed
once winter wounds
will chill to ruin,
beauty we lose
illuminated only by
a cold white moon.

For springtime comes
and i swear to you
no matter what we knew
or became so used to
amidst the weeds
our heirloom seeds
still bloom anew–
if only wait,
I'll prove to you.

You bellow my appellation,
unworthy soul
you vociferate
proclaiming
my worthlessness.

Your cries echo
with ignorance,
lamenting my alleged
idleness
and ineptitude,
prophesying
my perpetual failure.

Yet, I shall Pivot,
standing resolute,
a smile
gracing my visage
as I regard you
and declare,

'One day,
I shall bask in Prominence

One day,
Prosperity
shall be mine.
Joy
shall accompany me,

I Will be Industrious and
Honor Will Adorn Me

I will Ascend
Far beyond your reach,
and you will remain oblivious
ensnared
in the depths
of your own despair,
until you glimpse my face
from an exalted realm,

a perspective
forever unattainable
to you.

I didn't die.
I felt the sun on my inner eyelids.
It appeared on time,
Traipsing from the east.
I last saw it dropping like a child's ball
Just west of the St. Clair, into Michigan.

All is all right.
But I know to expect
Changes in the weather,
And seasons... lots of seasons...
I will dress appropriately.