Passage - 2016/08/24

The leaves tumbled,
Even as they fell.
The wind subsided,
Agony did not quell.

Pallor light spilled,
From a midsummer moon.
A torrent of tears,
Shall be a crops boon.

Below the surface lurks,
Deeper meaning denied.
There it shall await us,
Until we finally decide.

Moments are transient,
Pleasure and pain as well.
Time is the only cure,
For every emotional spell.