Many Thanks to William M. Criss Autumn Cracks Quiet rumination reigns inside these walls, and down those halls, beside this chair, and in that couch, among the decorated lamps, in the midst of Fall… The birth of Winter has yet arrived. Past the windows filtered light, with Summers leaves of color spent, the reds and yellows of dissent, will turn a downward course… The flesh in its impassioned past, organic in its bout with time, invisible in its demise, like barren limbs against the sky, will slowly pass away… The paradox within this play, in which the actors must obey, upon delusions feathered bed, immortal here in fearless youth, is that we can believe… In this we cannot feel the sting, within the comfort of this house, surrounded by the mirrored lie, we do not feel a thing… However, in a silent thought, protected by a flimsy shield, the truth has cracked the armors plate, and given me to mortal fate… As Autumn brings its cold approach, I rush to make repairs.. William M. Criss III November 2005
Posted on: Sat, 19 Oct 2013 21:37:41 +0000
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