Unnamed Rant

There’s a scent stenching up the air
Reminiscent of fallen leafs long forgotten in despair
As our branches dropped the weight they could not bare

There’s a tune conducting the way we flow
Mnemonic of a dance we so well used to know
Apathically we stand on the doubt on to lead or to be lead

There’s an unknown color painting our worlds
Its light shedding warmth on our own very souls
There’s more to black and white when you dwell yourself in grey

There’s a path opening ahead trying to show us the way
Paving our next move as if on the subject we have nothing to say
Blindly we wander it but always looking into the path sideways

There’s a shiver within, harsher than the shivering cold
Shaking our own primal existence, defying us to be bold
Indulge the freezing water for the fiery sun is only three strokes away