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Leaves Colours Eshew
The Coming of Late Fall.
Melodic song of mockingbrid
Is a final warning to all of
Earth's shifting toward
Winter's sleep again.

Friends, cousins, wives,
Sons, daughters, and sisters
Gather to celebrate the
Rebirth of the prophet
Mysterious -
Herald of humanity's
Highest potential.

Others toil during this
Hallowed time to a
Different calling
Forgetting the true pupose
Because there's
Money to be made.

While others lay dying
Mothers are crying
Bitter tears for war's lost sons and daughters.

Others sit plotting and planning
Their dastardly deeds
Within their caves
About blowing themselves
To kingdom hell
Hoping to plant seeds
That are fallow
In the name of sillogistic
Rig - a - Ma- row
Brainwashed into them.

It was taught through
Countless ages
By wise sages
We should turn the
Other cheek
Yet we vehemently
Speak the hate in
Our hearts 'gainst
Those who would
Transress against us.

Is it any wonder
Our children rise up
In rebellion?
Mixed messages
Confused and painful
Wax.

As the sun sets and rises
The eons will, as always rush past us
With blinding speed
Waiting for us to heed
The light of wisdom
that waits there for us to grasp it!