Asia’s Rain

My face was warm as I sat and thought
About the money, and the money, and the money.
My feet were as cold as a slice of January wind.
And somehow I just sat there
Feeling everything within my warm face
And cold feet,
Wondering if you were coming to find me,
Or coming to despise me,
While I thought about the money.
I wondered if you would ever come
Or call.
My cheeks felt like a hand slap,
My freezing feet.
I kept looking through the dingy glass
To see if you were following
Or up ahead,
Wondering if you were far behind,
If you were cold or warm,
If you thought about the money.
I sat and despised my sitting.
I thought and despised my thinking.
And the money–How I despised the money.

Late autumn stands like kindling with its trees stripped bare.
One match in the right place will set them ablaze.
Winter will be averted for a brief, glorious bonfire of a moment.
Such a burning would allow winter to strike with a more cruel ferocity.
Winter would know that spring would struggle even more desperately from frozen ashes.

Autumn has a simple faith.
Faith is what enables autumn to dare shed its leaves.
Autumn lays itself bare to the ravages of snow, frost, sleet and ice of winter.
Autumn has faith that it can stand the ravages of winter.
Autumn has faith that nothing more malignant than winter lurks in the world.

Man has knowledge that transcends autumn’s faith.
Man prepares differently for winter.
In the harsh winter to come, faith may be broken.
Liars, thieves and cheaters will do anything to avert winter’s due.
In cold desperation one will strike the match that will burn the trees.
It may be done in ignorance of the consequence for spring.
It may be done with spite and malice.
Man is capable of destruction born from any reason, or none.

So man sits up at night, year after year, devising ways to protect himself from himself.
Man despises himself for his malignant capacity.
He despises himself for his own need and ability to thwart his own evil capacity.
Occasionally, in the midst of all his self-despising, man contemplates joy.

Joy, in the smallest measure, can offset the heaps of evil man piles up.
Man gathers the evil in isolated piles, far from the innocent trees of autumn.
The dead and dried leaves of despising are gathered into one place.
Evil can also be destroyed.
One match is struck and placed on the pile.
Man feels the brief moment of joy and warmth.
Evil is reduced to smoke and ashes.

The naked trees of autumn watch the scene from a distance in quite approbation.
Spring will come again in its own natural time.