Lost, Lust, at least...

... The story


Once in the autumn i was walking.
The autumn was walking through me,
To be clear. The clouds wasn't clear,
Be sure, it was dark navy.
It was dirty, unsure, moody
With stains inside, out.
And i was deeply naive
At that time of the late October,
That was probably even not me.
And suddenly happened exposure
The sunshine spilled through trees,
Tired, but cheerful, sharply
Spontaneous. It seemed to be scary, for me and not only,
Alike it was seen an exhibitionist
Ugly, ancient, persistent, transient.
And someone started to ask, to require,
To feel pain like a patient,
Dying from ache in bones:
What do you want from me?
Someone dared to sigh, to inquire
Where i was walking once.
What is my sin? Why do we see
that? Why are there such dirty stains?
I even was going to ask a river ,
If I went into it twice.
Trees and grass were also questioned
By some strange explorer,
By river too. Why does it happen?
That odd exhibition... Reminder?
about what? the end of the day
Was approaching November,
Was shrinking and opaque
It wasn't supposed to be told anybody,
Here were bones and there was ache,
No word could be heard anywhere ,
Just wild disclosure of nature's nudity.
That who was walking through autumn somewhere
With bones and flesh and something higher
Wasn't going to stop by the river
Hasn't intentions to stop at all .
He was going inward and forward
Scared of exhibitionism of the sun, alone,
Alongside of that river if it was at its place.
He did not understand of his role
Am I just a bystander? He made the appeal
Oh damn, I lost my trace.
Wandering nearby of a home
Home home sweet home
Clouds cascading sudden thunder
storm
Curtains contain some light already
As they hide shadows inside
Who was walking in the autumn unsteady,
Under the sun, unidentified,
Under the trees with open heart?...
The end of the story.

23.10.21