Autumn Poem by johannes lewinsky

It is in the quieting time of the year
That there's a power in the air comes
Not from wanting and seeking
But from the relinquishing
Of all that was previously sought

A chill in the air that means
I am no longer constrained for lack of
but can know the immanence of more
than i have ever dreamed of

And nowhere now to go
but here where i am now and can
can be again not just that be
but once again all that i am can


it cannot be but as it is
this coming and going mostly going for it is
whether we like it or not
when we take to ourselves the me that we would
that we instigate an ending that is never far from us


And in my ending is my beginning
And in my beginning my ending
never far the one from the other

but always present
in this am that i am and that i have
so arduously shaped


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And i have with this am that i am
Sought to fight and uncover
The is that is in me and that bristles
In this world that surrounds me
The is that i know to be here and is

in the plants herbs and trees that breathe
in the sky above me and that hapless is
in the seas beyond me and in the keys
of this laptop I hammer daily

Where i seek to outreach
the thoughts that come
here to me here to me here
to taunt and to play with me

be with me i cry
to these trees and seas
that always with and beyond me sing
the same insouciant song i hear

from that tenor's larynx that poet's
rhythms and the strains
of that symphony i've heard
a thousand times over and cannot
get enough of

be with me i cry
to the seagulls wheeling
crass and hysterical over me
that know what they want
and are focussed entirely
and at all costs on getting it

they may not and do not
know what they do but they know
what it is to be suffused
with need and the arrant
determination to assuage
these pangs even if it be
on nothing more
than a few scraps of garbage

be with me i cry
to these faces and voices
that glide into and just as quickly out
of this my ever peripheral
vision and space
that hold themselves aloof
from what i know not what
while knowing they will not
and they don't


be with me i cry
to this voice that is in me
that wants to out itself out
and only hasn't and doesn't
because of some peculiar
qualm of conscience i have yet
to identify and grapple
to myself and with