afterSummer

After Summer

I was thinking of the woundedness

And the brokenness, and loneliness

And the pain of a lost traveler

After summer.

The streets were nothing but empty lanes

The sea of people was nothing but a faceless crowd

The room was nothing but an empty box

Dark and cold.

I used to preach that it is not in falling

But the rising after every fall

I used to preach that a rainbow

Is a prelude to a beautiful day.

But sometimes it happens and it did happen

When many things are better said than done

When many songs are better kept than heard

When many stories are better lost than shared.

And so the pilgrim starts to walk

As the leaves of autumn begin to fall

And his shadow is lost in the dark

And he is gone.

September 5, 2007