musings

are you willing to bare
your gnarled, shy body,
leaving the gold clothes
that cover you in mock beauty
to rot on the ground beneath
trodden upon by strangers
admiring of your nakedness?

would you, without shame,
or pride, accept another ring
round your trunk, another tyre,
one more stretch mark, left
un/measured, un/judged by
worldly and monked companions,
standing by your lonely, tired side?

will you be able to take comfort
in the strength of your creeping soul
that grounds you, reaching into
the moist warm earthiness
that sustenance is made of?

as the cold winds blow under
greying skies hiding a weak sun,
tell me, are you ready for the fall,
can you face the autumn of your being?