I sit and stare out the window of my room,
watching showers of gold dance
towards inevitable death upon the angry shadows
of man-made concrete malevolence.
Torrents of life fly through the air,
soil torn from peaceful slumber by destruction.
Dead and dying fingers of trees more aged than time
litter the restless path walked by troubled youth.
Trees moan in agony as they tilt and topple,
Broken illusions lie side by side
with torn hearts and twisted dreams
upon the pavement, given no more thought
than the discarded cans and bottles
from foolish attempts at forced merriness.
Sorrow and solitude are masked by false gaiety;
the rush of long sought independence
clouds reason and forethought.
Among the forest carcass, callously raped and demolished,
walls of change are built.
Dreams and hopes will dwell in these halls,
some to grow, some to die, some to fade away and be forgotten.
Youth comes to learn of life, yet still oblivious to the death
surrounding that they call home.
I watch out my window, wallowing in the scent of leaves
changing from green to gold, seeing knowledge ripen
to foolishness, then to fade again to realization
of how little knowledge there is.
Much can be learned
from a window, safe behind the glass, without having to risk
the terrors of life.
Safe in my walls of knowledge, secure
in my invulnerability, I sit and watch.
I turn and stand,
stepping out the door.