Blind children in the dark
Within the whispers of the forest
As foliage falls on a place without sun
Where the white eyes gaze

Down the path there is a clearing
Where the yellowing grass lays down to rest
Beneath the flowers still living
To provide, in their dying, sustenance for the deer

The lake sounds carry in the distance
Holding the jolting caw of migrating geese
Who linger for a moment, watched by forest deer,
As they move along the grain patches toward the edge

I set the smoke afire
To send signals to the blind

Ever closer to unveiling the truth to the
question that's etched so deeply in the mind,
the very unnerving question.
Do we live just to die, only to be born
again?
Tonight the roots of life divide the light
that shines far ahead in time.
How foolish to think that energy has a end.