The fields lie painted with soft Autumn’s shade
The sky is ashen, waving its escape
The leaves sigh – a soft portal simply made
For you and me, beyond the painful rake
Of Fate’s oracular rough, bad dice throw
So, let’s find in each other, simply make
Some beauty, comfort; draw it from below
This union of black pain – this dark lake
Of brokenness that only acts like it
Binds, forges and refines for moment’s sake.
Let us face Truth, and simply see it fit
To go past the sick, finally awake
To silver linings and lush leaves of song
And darling, there, then, we will not go wrong.
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)