November

A whole new day erupts, -

Horizon’s lit with embers.

The sky is pierced with drops

Of tears shed by November.

The leaves twirl in their flight,

So weak and short of breath,

While reaching for new heights,

They glide into the depths

Of dimmed reflected skies,

Where heaven quickly smears

And echoes of their cries

Send ripples through the years.

The sad fate of the lost, -

To seek the Truth in mud

When by the window crossed

The Truth is hung to rot.

Just take a look outside, -

The skin hangs off its bones!

November, crucified,

In all three voices moans...