Stripping away the rose colored glasses of denial concerning my reality. Getting in touch with truth. Reaching out to others in empathy concerning their reality and their walk to truth.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Golds and browns, accept your fate ~
a chill arrives, it's getting late.
Your branches gray, with dying moss ~
prepare again for season's loss.
Sleep is due with curling leaves ~
that gather 'neath the forest trees.
Creatures come to build their nests ~
for Autumn's time gives way to rest.
Sleep oh forest without a sound ~
in beauty deep of golds and browns,
Of golds and browns ~ sleep ~