Original Work published by J.LynLike fallen men they lie where they fell the foliage falling on and settling around. Every extremity stripped bare yet reaching out standing tall and proud though death bound. It’s true they provide a shelter in many forms they hold safe, they dance, they inspire. Also they hold haunted thoughts and memories And vulnerable fragility exposed by fire. Like beasts with red eyes amid the distant fog an anxious enemy may inflict demise. But there they take their stoic stand the forest’s heartbeat and resolute nature rise. It begins with wind that rips at leaves, shredding some while others can withstand. Then rain begins pelting, shrapnel hard and so begins the sound of the damned. A howling and constant noise confronts even arachnids among silk dropped dew. Squinted searching eyes gaze upon purple haze and miss the beauty of Autumn’s hue. They seem to take one last collective breath Then air turns frigidly chill bark peels and cracks. The ice first clings then crisps each exposed edge and there the fall is terribly frozen in tracks. In the still, in the distance, we can find a horrid sort of beauty in that frame. We can chose to see the pattern of life a soldier living up to its name. We forget the soul underneath who becomes blind to the golden road beneath him so it might as well not be. And the leaves shed allow sunlight to drip from branches like rain, but its not beheld by he. He has forgotten the journey, he is missing the good so focused is he on the why and where and what of the things to come with the next step as if his eyes are permanently shut. Just beyond the edge of darkness, a touch past purple fog, the golds and pinks burn they caress the leaves, the land, and light the dark, despite the leaves that turn.