Amber is the color of the tree leaves
As I count them one by one
While autumn sits on the edge of the season of the sun
I will lay in a meadow entombed by the pending winter
Lost I am to the spring time of my own youth
For I have carried the mark of emptiness upon my brow
Therefore, I have drifted to an overflowing waterfall
That has grown stale overtime
It feels as if I am no longer moving
As If I am just standing here watching
As the world slowly turns
Isolated I have become to these thoughts of thoughts
Cursed I know I seem
As I have become a witness to my own revelation
Like these tree leaves that hold embers of amber lit colors
One day too; will I fall from the highest point that I was destine
So, maybe my destiny doesn’t matter.
Maybe it’s that pure chromatic color that holds to a true meaning;
When fate comes to pull me from this ill-fated tree of life.
~ Tony Paradise Poet ~
