Metaphors Of A Free Poet Poem by Smoky Hoss

Leaves shine their best
In the fall,
When they are dying.
Days grown cold
Are left behind,
While the sky comes around to crying.

Shadows can only show
True beauty,
Scattered in rays of the sun's light.
While nature's darkest picture
Is the moon hidden behind clouds,
On a chilled and rainy night.

What sets the soul
Of the poet free?
A lack of bond to conformity?
To bend and blend at will,
Time with eternity,
Inspiration with possibility?

Some times (with surprise) arrive words
Without name,
Leaving only questions to ponder
Why they came.

Cryptic ways of
Delicate days,
Adorned with wonders brief,
Bring a slight spiritual relief.

If even one soul may find
In a word I've pressed
A comfort of mind,
Or see just a glimpse
Of beauty divine,
Then what I have sought
Of all that I feel,
May become real.

This beyond all else
Is what sets the soul free,
Within the likes
Of a simple poet... like me.