Metamorphosis

Apr 19, 2016

METAMORPHOSIS

I amble through the woods
keeping, marking the rhythm of Time
on the gnarled branches, the scars left in the bare barks
of trees .
The bells toll, like some pure metal
immersed in water and ringing still.
A metamorphosis
latent, sings
in a monotone I fail to hear for a while
in the impetuous rustle of the wind.
It's happening somewhere silently.
The sound of a temple bell
how it floats
on the ripples and the wind that sweeps
over the river's thin expanse.
Metamorphosis,
not immortality
is the burden of the song that Time sings.
Leaves that fall
cover the scattered seeds
flowing down among the pensive trees