my senses awaken
from the site and scent of Autumn .
Decaying leaves that smell of
apples and cinnimon in the sun.
Warm crimson and ambers reach inside me
and invoke soulful memories.
A force of holness fills me, as if the Universe was channeling through me , all of it's Yin and Yang.
Melancholy , Bliss , appreciation , clarity . . .
and the rememberance . . . like the leaves ,
all things must pass .
Though the beauty
and richness of our experience lives on .
Some perfect flower emerges from the ashes of our sorrows.
Some new thought , some new revelation is born
out of going to the very core of our selves.
Our own deep well springs forth with the manifestations
of all that we have asked for ,
sometimes surprising us with something all together different ,
all together better . . . than what we ever could have imagined.
Lark
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