Many a cycle I have seen in rotation. I have borne witness to the beginning and inevitable fall of many an empire. I have looked upon the folly of men, in all their aspirations, destined to be consumed by their infinite greed, in this finite place.

With the hopeful springtime comes growth, renewal, and expansion. The grandiose plans laid out by the wise yet paradoxically immature. Their roots grow stronger, and deeper, whilst their reach blossoms in all directions.

Summer soon follows. In a time of prosperity and abundance, they harvest the fruits of their labours. I know far too well the inevitability of what is to come. They, blissful in their ignorance, celebrate and rejoice, consuming as if tomorrow will never show. 

The flow of wine soon begins to dwindle, the food supply runs thin. Once again; they have exceeded their means and panic ensues, interrupting their jubilations. 

Leaves fall from my branches and rot where they lay, evoking discord and acts of violence to claim what little remains of our bounty. 

Even the squirrels would have much to teach them if only were they to pause a moment and listen to their wisdom.

They soon find themselves in the depths of winter, the nights barren and hostile. 

Hungry, angry, and scared they bicker and squabble amongst themselves, attributing blame to one another, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

Unaware that the rejuvenation of springtime will soon be upon them, they escalate their atrocities until none are left standing to enjoy it.

These children of the earth have been trapped in fruitless cycles for aeons, their evolution is long overdue.

This cycle, I have seen a hopeful change.

A glimmer of maturity has perhaps taken hold in them, for indeed many are stopping to listen to what we have to say. A select few individuals have taken heed of the change in seasons, cultivating novel ideas, and begun to disperse these seeds of knowledge to those with fertile enough minds to nurture them to fruition. 

They still have a lot to learn.

Poetic Catharsis.

Scary as it may be to bare my soul to the world through my poetry, it is most cathartic and genuinely helps me to understand my emotions more deeply. Quite often I’ll have an overwhelming cocktail of feelings that once put to paper, are much simpler and easier to categorise, and therefore deal with in a healthy way.