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FALLEN

Being a Stream of Consciousness Poem Written Amidst the Yellow Poplars in the Morgan-Monroe State Forest in Indiana (9-14-24)

By C. Rommial ButlerPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read
The notebook in which I penned the poem. I've revised nothing, but in the text below I have emboldened the word FALLEN for emphasis.

The creaking branches fall into the forest bed below. I hear them, not giving up the fight but losing the battle, with gravity, with time, with fate. My eyes see sunlight splattered among the wilting flora, the fallen leaves, the long, thin trees fallen, fallen, fallen like a battle-hardened soldier taking one last stand, fallen, kissing the autumn wind and never to fall again, fallen, fallen. Fallen like the bitter heart that seeks no reprieve in the ashen dusk, fallen! Fallen like an eternity stretched into the bottomless abyss, fallen! Yet the sun shines even on these, if only enough space is left among the branches for it to reach through. Fallen, yes, but not forsaken. Fallen, but not forgotten. Fallen like an angel that utters no cry as it plunges into the sun, fallen.

***** * *****

As told from So(u)l's perspective:

Stream of Consciousness

About the Creator

C. Rommial Butler

C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.

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    Written by C. Rommial Butler