Windfall

Windfall

 

I have grown old;

A shrub turned tree

Now lost in the forest of itself,

Where dreamed of maidens wandered,

Where fires were built

And the heat was squandered

On vast star-filled skies

In a universe that was at a tilt.

Now the fruit has fallen to the flies.

 

I have grown cold,

The branches without a single leaf

To cover what was faith, what was belief.