November

When next November rolls around and the mist starts creeping in

And you hear the swooping wings of fallen angels lost to sin

And the tinny strings of otherworldly music in your ear

And the threat of further punishment that warns you to adhere

To regimented suffering: your one path to applause,

I hope that light outweighs the pain, and I hope that you’re the cause.

I hope you find the streetlight’s shine ‘neath the heavy quilt of fog

That petrifies the silvery sky in liquid like a bog

And mummifies the populace’s dreamscapes and desires

Entombing them beneath the weight of melancholic mire

And dooming them to wander endless moonlit streets in vain;

When they’re all gripped by hysteria, I want you to stay sane.

I want you to discover the roads you never thought you’d see

And take the one that makes you want to live the most recklessly

And paint the path ahead of you while never looking back

So you can find the wheels that perfectly glide on your tracks

And you can climb the twisting oak tree higher than before

And even in the darkest month, I know that you can do more.

I know that you’ll survive and follow the path I couldn’t take

Through the silver noble mountainsides and opalescent lakes

Through the fields that refuse to bloom as long as this cold lasts

That will carry out their colors like a flag raised on the mast

As soon as Jack Frost has to let his cold amusement end

As permafrost loses permanence, I watch you rise again.

I watch you rise above the glaciers once insurmountable

As now you realize, with some rope, you can climb out any hole

For even the tree that lost its green amid frigidity

Can supplement the earth again with fresh and functional leaves

And even the abyss that took the strongest submarine

Could never begin to slow you down, as long as you have me.

You have me right along with you for every step of the way,

Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s this journey that we take

It’s never easy, always thinking of ways to make it hurt

But when its hard at least you know that you will always be heard;

Though I am but a whisper, my form a dying ember,

Just know that I’m around you always, even in November.