Autumn

Today, I fall as they do. Slowly, but surely, carried by the silent wind, nothing more than a burnt marionette frozen in mid-air.

Today, I watch the final leaves fall off the great trees. A world of green reduced to nothing more than a dusty, dead pile of garbage.

Laughing to myself, I realize that Fate must be one twisted noodle.

Allow me to elaborate.

Autumn, to me, was that time when the Sun descended to embrace the Earth by way of his swathes of Auburn and Vermillion and Orange, planting meandering kisses with every gentle breeze. It was, to me, a glorious time for Change, when even the towering trees were stripped of their manes, and thus the rivers of gold gushed forth, burning off the lackadaisical in life.

Was.

Now, it is the recurring scream in my ear that destruction is a more natural order than the chaos of creation. It bellows that nothing in this world escapes the ill-manicured talons of Time for He flies faster than fury, and farther than free will. As for the deafening, indelible Red all around, I can do not much to drown it out. My Blue has been swabbed dry by you, and neither the limitless sky tonight nor the ink I have bled out, can paint me back to life. In this fractured corner of the Universe, I can see no other colour. This stymied limbo has far too much of Crimson and Carmine.

As I fall, I am finally letting everything I believed in to drift away, soothed by the Wine in your words.

Haec olim meminisse iuvabit