A Change of Season or How I Like to Screw My Poetry Over by Quoting Kahlil Gibran Immediately Afterwards

Can it be the scowl of the sun that scalds my soul

Or is it just you, and your caustic indifference

I breathe in from afar

My eyes meet yours not at all

And are blinded by the star I dare strive to sight

And how dare I?

Can it be the wicked winds that wither my weary whole

Or is it just you, a cool breeze so bitterly biting

I let numb and elude

My hands though itch and grasp

And are cut by nothingness their only reward

Forever after your refrained melody.

Can it be the symphony of storm to spear my spirit

Or is it just you, your cadence caressing her neck

I wish myself away -

Can it be your angelic aspect to avail my ache

It is your arms lifting me from fallen leaves

I let myself drown

My being suspended into a potpourri of fantasy

And your secrets, the songs I never learned

Colour my world a shade of heaven.

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"When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden."

-Kahlil Gibran