Falling off

a goodbye would be when I fall off the sky,

into the arms of genteel earth, to embrace

the two tomorrows, of existing no more,

putrefy my furtive flesh, black bones into

the granular sand, returning to the birth,

that watered the roots of the world tree,

of which I came out to be a red raw fruit,

sheathed by the leaves, that shielded it

from sly storms, but every cold seeps in,

to their unaware natures, applying layers

of first frost, ingraining icicles within, and

as this youngling falls off before maturation,

the seeds do not burst, when it splits open

into a chamber of plain platitude of emptiness

.

Image source

For dVerse Poetics, where the prompt is to write about trees.

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24 thoughts on “Falling off

  1. the seeds do not burst, when it splits open
    into a chamber of plain platitude of emptiness… that image hits me most… so sad when we are thrown into something before we’re ripe enough to really face it…happens way too often..

    Like

  2. …some fruits are meant to fall soon… but it doesn’t mean what they have is not good… maybe, they need to start again by falling & going back to basics for a better time of ripening… a lovely offering… smiles…

    Like

  3. Brendan says:

    Its the passive yearning of this fruit that is so tender and heartbreaking — it grows to fullness yet has no control over what wind or cold or night may bring. Are we much different?

    Like

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