unheeded

sometimes the wind is nothing but bitter and icy

its dalliances with leaves

go noticed without care

the cold relishing its damper

as i fret away the chills

my want of simple warmth

do no justice to the beauties of nature

there but unwanted

it dulls unheeded

as i hurry tiredly towards home…

foolish zenith

sometimes
having reached
a foolish zenith

 reason surpasses
the enduring calls of
past words

all that is subjected to difference
seems thinly veiled as the last

all disguising the one truth
with no more than a
used epiphany