Transitions

The snapping of strings
Strange rhythms in sounds
A reminder to us that all things must end
I feel the Sword of Damocles staring down at me
A flower blooms in the final act of self preservation
The mountain and the sky
They collide before the river’s eyes
Delusions drain us of safety
Our foundation is rotting
Creatures crawl out confused
The cycle continues
From the season of loss to the season of life
It is in the transitions
Grind and puncture
Reform to return
Cycles and seasons
Rform to pass through
Drawing your first breath
The last leaf to fall touchs the ground and turns day to night
Cycles and seasons relapse
It is in the transitions