The Oak

Autumn and I have become synonymous, why?
Because we both can be described as "the fall".
As if the butt of a cosmic joke, I'll prepare this fire to stoke,
because this growth has begun to stall.

Changing of colors and changing of seasons, there's solace in self destruction with reason
but wonder what's to come of this rain.
Where feeling good and feeling nothing relate because pleasure and numbness equate,
a hunt for anything to kill the pain.

Much like a diminishing oak who craves for his roots to soak,
I feel like I'm losing a limb.
But just as I'm reduced to a cry, the oak extends an inquisitive "why?"
And I explain that today I am just like him.

For we own a thirst we can't quench and a gut forever in wrench,
and in moments we'll wither away.
He gave a rattling chuckle that almost caused my knees to buckle and said,
"poor boy it is just for today."

"The universe's cyclical plot may have caused this appearance of rot,
but that is no reason for strife.
Just look through the right lens and you'll see this rain is to cleanse
and the sun will bring us new life."

"Just wait and tomorrow you'll see, a growth as green as can be,
for we are not fragile or glass.
Don't misinterpret the pain, for really it is much like the rain,
and remember this too shall pass."

So today with the oak I will wait, both in an indeterminate state,
because our blooms do not cease us to grow.
And when the day begins to break, a breath of life I will take,
for last night's seeds will be ready to sow.

And so my journey remains, a past riddled with stains,
but a future of indefinite glow.
And when your life forces a choke, just remember the words of the oak,
because you too, are stronger than you know.