Where are the autumns of my youth? .

. by @d-pend . . ___ ![g.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/YixHltKm-g.png) ![c2.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/xmPrGMSi-c2.png) ___ ![j (1).png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmQHkUFg621HtHQJRkJkMzYLT4MKZgEcBmzGmXM4S1oTaV/j%20(1).png) ___

Where are the autumns of my youth? ____________________________________

Where are the autumns of my youth, with leaves fallen, not-fallen, and falling forever — never to contact the Earth? Where is the whip of the wind, thin aqua cirrus of mist? Where is the leap of the flame across every age-spotted vein, leafen-hands crimson with shame — ruby with glory, yellow with envy, pinken'd with wisdom, orange with story, purple with majesty, emerald with promise, brown-stemmèd endurance — white-crownèd abhorrence. A bright moss all a-dream, and cold lichen, swirl of an infinite frost-oxymoron; thundering stream and a phial of absence, vacuum of warmth and a marvel'd abyss — bestrewn with the meagre-sad skeleton sent to circle horizon with shrivelèd trees: arbor of night, soft-sparkled with tears. Ice of abandonment, self-abnegation; a splash of a scald by the steam at the station. At town or at home or at least — a hint of 'at home' in the street. A throb of the heart in the heath and a pang in the soul for the hearth that still will be waiting at home. Where are the terrors of my youth; The ghouls and the gremlins of mind — rising, half-risen, soon-risen, from the cold-harsh corpse of the ground? Where are the restless shades, and the tyrannic titans of thought who crumble mahogany frames of structures ill-begot? Where is the line of the pain, tracèd in fractal grooves — through cement-crack or tea-leaves: through smoke of sandalwood? Where is the whip of the wind, thin orange cirrus of moon? Where is the ghost of the flame across every age-spurnèd vein, gnarls of a wooden fist ashen-away? Where is the crimson and gray, green-yellow-orange — blue of the sky, ink of the night — an ocean of dream. Where are the long-lovèd, long-lost things that float upon fancy and falseness afar from reason romantic with scent of the wild, ozone fermented with crisp effervescence? Where are the wreaths and wraiths, where are the scarves and shades, where are the leaves and lessons time spiraled down from the trees: falling on me — falling and never to reach; never touch memory deep, never caress the essence I'd keep, never complete the circuit I sought, never rescind the limitless doubt, never assault the fathomless joy, never remain to be thought of again — all of the autumns of all of the years of my youth? ___ ![j.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmNQ2VTmfRcMsgt8QBgVKxuBAnU1ngsX7S8DZy58g2xvyg/j.png) ___ ![l.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/dgygDB9T-l.png) ![f2.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/z1PClgG1-f2.png) ___ ![j (2).png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmQar1F2HAbYTj58i898SjpSNxTnnsBzdPsW8AikqGCUPa/j%20(2).png) ![f2 (1).png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmTJP3Ewn5ogJJ5GAxRXrXC1ZgqGAmCwPxCNdR9KXHTMvW/f2%20(1).png) ___ `words and photos by @d-pend` created for HIVE on Sept. 24, 2020 ___ ![f2 (2).png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmaFXnYntQVxNMFqmfoC5QZcKTBdh3wNTwx5DSrHZbh7iy/f2%20(2).png)![j (3).png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmcRzvczG9ubfzjqvvGyfxdoaxvZJRk5AkynrcPZrf87C3/j%20(3).png) ___ ![j.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/BEqgrCWL-j.png) ![m.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/9BFi48hS-m.png)