Last Day of Spring

Insane preaching fell tumbling through the yellow walls
The monastery was old, like a witch grown cold in the rain
She hath no more vengeance against the lost souls of earth
The devil may care to put his ear to the last remains of man
Searching for the precious soul, within the lies of the mind
A priest walks down the meadows unaware and unafraid
Of what might be the last day in spring that shone bright
The rivers don’t care for the solitude that belongs to trees
It is but the movement of the ripples to the mighty ocean
But what skies might shade the noon sun from reflections
Upon the waters that keep the river in continuous motion
Last time the priest fell upon the carcass of an old mare
She never did learn the secrets of the ancient forests
Hence without a care she dropped her life for no want
Nor fear of lasting sorrow that haunts all mortal beings
Today her bones still lie in the grass to remind the priest
Of forgotten promises and fulfillment, of being forgiven
For trespasses of the five desires that consume all life
It is now time, he says, for the last and final call to us
Bring forth the truth, lest it may hide among old habits
Lest it may lose its way along the wilderness of pleasure
Do you hear the birds and the butterflies flying away
For no longer is the warmth to remain as the cold comes
The winds may change their course but the sun remains
Yet what the summer held dear shall once more subside
The priest did see all this and more, for he remembered
All that has come shall eventually leave, ‘tis but a circle
Of life and of death, and he was too old to forget now
Saying his farewells to the mare’s bones, and the forest
He slowly retraced his steps back to the yellow monastery
This fall shall be wet, said he, and the winter so cold
But no more witches of old remain, to bother his walks