Ennessee

It's always Autumn in my house. It's always Autumn in my heart. "There is still time, there is still time!" The voices claim in my sad mind. I take refuge in my own bedroom; I seek refuge in my own dreams. Winter will come, nevertheless, lasting no more than just a second. Winter will come - unpleasant guest - bringing a quick, relentless end. It's always Spring for the newborn It's always Summer for the dead.

I knew the end in the beginning Of this poem, is what I mean But I guess I could say the same About the mother you were to me He had met a lot of women, Tainted endings in the past You were a beautiful person But still, it couldn't last I'd look at you two laughing, See the love deep in your eyes I'd use that as my hope As reality's disguise Nothing lasts forever I'd hear that all the time But still I held onto the maybes I was holding onto lies I'd say: They really love each other That's how it's going to stay Why was I so in shock When he said you left today? I really saw it coming But pretended not to see Instead I looked ahe

Incendemur, consumemur et si satis fortes sumus ex cinere resurgemus.

Seven pikes stand on the top of the hill at the edge of a small reign. They're always there, with or without human flesh on their heads, effective in scaring enemies and strangers more than any other human weapon, altough they never went to war. Of these long and slender sentinels the most celebrated is the one in the middle, because of the grim tune that resounds in the valley, freezing the hearts of the wayfarers, when the wind blows through the holes in her shaft. It is told - by the superstitious, of course - that many centuries ago, when the ancestors of the modern inhabitants came from the east, they decided to thank and please their