Misplaced Gate

The trees do not whisper my name in the voice of a billion stars.
The sun shadows my upturned face denying my gate
My cries of desperation, clinging to the echoing melody fall away
Dripping in autumnal colors, released from the iced earth;
A presence not present, to my dismay, but somewhere waiting to be unpacked
Unearthed from the cardboard grave where its been held hostage
By my unreasonable, childish demands, that I should not change.
The place my spirit abides is dark to me because I’ve become unplugged
I’m looking. I’m searching. I must find my outlet so my spirit can remember
So I can remember the laughter of water, the chatter of dust, my place in the Universe.