cascading waterfalls of slow, sorrowful tears.
It stands rooted magnificent yet wizened and old,
its wisdom passed beyond the measure of time.
Dark and ominous clouds obfuscate the sky,
making the air tense and heavy in the gloom.
An eerie calm engulfs all tangible senses,
futilely shrouding the imminent storm.
The scent of fall enchants the autumn air
as the wind sweeps away summer's verdancy.
A collage of polychromatic hues burst forth,
painting a kaleidoscopic season of transitions.
Dawn arrives yet the world slumbers on,
no one awake to witness the beauty of morn.
The early sun drenches all in its orange-crimson light,
bidding everything to arise from night's oblivion.
Music is the expression of the immortal soul,
its harmonies woven from that inner note.
All melodies resound to that internal flame
as delicate tones echo forever in eternity.
Poetry is the language of the sapient mind,
the flux of words completing that urbane thought.
This humble voice will not be placid and still
so long as we are the dreamers of dreams.
Inspiration is like a pool of scintillating energy,
the source and wellspring of every contemplation.
For some it's ever-flowing, for others it's capricious -
here at present but gone with a whimsical air.
Like angels from heaven the crystal flakes descend,
drifting slowly to earth like fairies in the wind.
Thy pure white form gleams with cold sparkling beauty,
thy nature is to blanket all in a wintry vision.
The silver moon is full on this somber night,
its cool light washing over the dark scenery.
Shadows creep beneath its pale radiance
as the moon guards the entrance of dreams.
Nature stirs again at the threshold of spring.
Snow melts to green while the cold air thaws.
Young flowers bloom as birds serenade the sky,
all life awakens as the seasons start anew.
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