The Ticking of the Falling Clock
Autumn is a trickster,
But it does not deceive
So much as it allows us to deceive
Ourselves. Entering world and body
With an ego void of
Stealth. Concluding with the fall on the hour
Of the twelfth. Now upon us,
A breeze brushes the first chill
Over skin. Yet, we trust not what we feel,
So much as what we see. Ignored, the
Intuition that prickles
Willfully fails to forewarn. Our attention instead
Consumed by the landscape
Abound. Where our perception
Of self is too often found. Beguiled by the
Volatile colors that ambush and hound.
Ruby reds, sunlit yellows,
Emerald greens, oranges set ablaze, they drip all
Around as vibrant jewels
Drip from a crown. Harvested
Crops and trees, overrun by fruits and nuts
With glee. Oh! So sweet to be surrounded
By beauty, treasure, and
Accolade. Those around look on with envy and
Heed every adornment,
Basking in a misguided,
Limited, and feeble power attained.
Somehow still unfulfilled, we desire
And covet even more
Just the same. Draped carelessly on our pedestal
Or throne, look inside
To realize there is so
Much more of us to know. We all
Wish to rise; we all yearn to fly high,
To be accepted by
The masses with pride. Yet, it matters not if we
Do not accept the truth
Inside, that truth we hide
From prying eyes. Lost in conformity,
The courage to embrace uniqueness
Dies. Then it comes.
Do you hear the drums? The fall has arrived.
Autumn now brings forth
Its fated other side. Cut
And prune and clip and shear, and
Gather with worry and fear, for the
Frost descends far
Too early and unexpectedly this year. The gemstone-
Colored leaves break free.
They may flutter and sink
To the earth on a gentle breeze, or crash
Down, heavy with the burden of weight
That resounds. On
The ground, the colors they owned are no longer
Found. The leaves now dry,
Shriveled, and faded to brown.
As a cliff edge plummets to the sea, the
Fragile ego tumbles down. Ego and cliff
Both the same, they
Crack, crumble, and fall to dust. Oh, the hope and
Wanderlust. Like ash riding
The gales, scattering the
Earth, searching for new life in its
Hearth. Let go, release, and start
Again, it is then the
Shame falls away and we find a better way. Nobody
Is above the fall, so
Release or be pushed,
But make no mistake, the universe
Makes the final call. Accept, for we
All must fall, gift or
Pain, in the end only we can say. Do not give up,
We never know what
Tomorrow may bring.
Stand and climb the stairs again,
But this time, do things towards
A different end.
Choices all around, a greater purpose is where
Humility is found.
True purpose buried
In the rubble of security in which
You now lie. It is there, in the dark,
A treasure of you
Waiting to be mined. Be different, be brave, and
Hold the world up in
Your own unique way.
Alas! Do not expect it will hold
You up every moment of the day.
In this all
Pretenses will finally fall away and the love and
Joy that seeps
Within will stay.
Oh! What a simple grace!
When embraced, the experiences of a weathered and changing soul boast knowledge. Perspectives are born as we wander our chosen scenery. Abundance will always evolve, and loss is inevitable. Thus, reality will prod us from our heights as our worries and fears take hold and our accepted burdens will tell the tale of our lives and deaths along the way. Bravery means letting go of the weight with which we have been endowed or else our downfall may be a direct result of such decorations. Similarly, Resolution and Independence is a lyric poem that takes us on a journey beginning with the joys of nature, peaking with the idea of falling back into absentmindedness as a result of fears accumulated during arduous journeys presented, and ending with built up determination helping us to stand in our choices and do the work by facing our fading times in the hopes of being gifted an honorable existence. Through the eyes of the late English poet William Wordsworth, this work expresses a calm found in learning to stand on your own two feet. It paints the wisdom and richness of inward focus, the advantages of growth attained through reflecting on another’s closing expedition, and the importance of transforming the fruits picked from our labors into powerful allies that support opportunity.
My article, Building a Support System, reenforces the importance of seeing beyond the obvious, popular, or customary so as to discover authenticity through the trials and truth behind the accolades. We all develop weeds and change is what allows us to pluck them out. My poem, The Ticking of the Falling Clock, supports this discussion as it pertains to the release of what no longer serves our interests or growth, so that we may search for our own uniquely created opportunities resulting from lessons attained through the beauty and the harshness of self-transformation.
