Sighs for Autumn Rain like Armageddon

When Autumn comes, the grasses
Will rot and die, like memories of haunted love
Gone wrong, like so many things in history
The past remains a dead closet of dreams
The stems of feathers too must die
Like the enchanted glowing of our hearts

That once were, now countless flowers bloom
Letting go to the colors at their cores
Their nectar and sap will not be studied
By scholars, only lovers in the present
The cold wind will moan on your white hairs

And I will breathe in that damp fragrance
Warming you with a kiss, if we still remain together
Ceaseless is the melody that distinguishes our lives
When Autumn comes, China’s silken quilt will be torn
America will stand in the rubble of its own demise

The standing grain, maybe it won’t sprout as always
We will go to the market like an impoverished farmer
But happiness will be locked behind iron gates
Our wallets will be seized by corporate thieves
We will not think of revolution then, that is for the young

We will attempt to live in harmony with the times
The rustling rain will hasten the early cold
When Autumn comes, maybe we will stand alone again
While children blithely rush through wind and rain
While geese fly hard and high with their wet wings
Will you still come to me in the lantern-lit night?

Photography Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/The-Four-Seasons-Spring-73886187