Metamorphosis

Some days are sublime heavens in our minds.
Intervals when immense feasts of pleasure
and hungered thoughts align.
Others are seering feral hell's that burn a pain divine.
What saved me from the lunacy
of enigma's inside my blackest hole.
Were the wildfires of passion,
from yet to reach terrains,
roaring in the barren fields of the soul.
My heart a satchel of angel deeds and devil's lies.
Beneath the soaring transitions of a chilled blue October sky.
Trees breaking out in the infectious blazing color
still in denial, that it's leaves could ever sever and fall.
I'm left with a burning yearn to answer metamorphosis's call.