The yellow leaves fly with the wind    Covering the graves below    the willow    The old man stands in the doorway    Wiping his    eyes with soiled sleeve       He kneels at the foot of the    graves    And touches the time-worn epitaph    Blessed are the    pure in heart,    for they shall see God       The grief of    loss claws at his bleak soul    The wind carries the first    freezing rain       With the rain appears a light    The    bright ray of the cold autumn day    It illuminates the cliffs    beyond the field    And casts vast shades upon the soaked    grass       The man recoils from his distant thoughts    The    rain flows along his furrowed cheeks    He stares at the warmth    of caressing light    And weeps the unseen tears with the    rain       He touches the grass with the palm of his    hand    And lets the wind sway him towards the past    He    follows the path of forgotten oblivion    And vanishes in the    rain on his dying day