Blank eyes,
a detonator
a trigger mechanism;
They stole our heritage
from us,
they made us forget
all we once were,
they made us bury
our dead,
we buried our dead
in autumn;
Autumn is a time of slow dying
there is no need to hurry,
the leaves will have time to shrivel
the branches of the trees will be denuded,
the leaden clouds will drift across the sky;
Blank eyes,
a detonator
a trigger mechanism;
Now there will be nothing more.
Insightful revealing soul of life.
Reflective like always.