This Fall (Creatively Speaking)

I’m afraid.

I’m scared.

Everything around me is falling.

Leaves are falling,

rain is falling,

dark is falling,

trees and lives and the sky itself is falling.

Each day is getting colder, and colder,

and darker and darker.

Summer is just a memory. 

A warm memory of a warm time,

when sunshine ruled the skies and our hearts.

And I know the seasons must change,

And after winter must come spring.

But this was a muted fall.

We were robbed of our final colorful splash,

our last glimmer of hope that we can hold on to

and take in that final breath of scenery,

then squeeze our eyes shut

in some sort of hibernating state of denial.

But denial about what?

Is the world going to end, in December?

Based on some ancient prophecy?

Or maybe the world is going to end this week,

at the hands of Mother Nature,

stirring her witch’s brew of weather;

like a Halloween-inspired Frankenstein-ian

concoction of drowning rage.

Is the world going to end?

What do I do?

What do we do?

I’m afraid.

I’m scared.

Everyone around me is falling.

Stumbling, screaming, crying.

Falling.

Summer is just a memory. 

A warm memory of a warm time,

when sunshine ruled the skies and our hearts.

And I know the seasons must change,

And after winter must come spring.

But this was a muted fall.

Those screams and cries

seem to be stifled amongst the prophecies

and doomsayers and empty promises,

that come with ghosts and ghouls and

the fog,

and the full moon hidden then revealed,

by the ever-moving clouds,

and the hauntingly-howling winds.

The winds of change.

They always come this time of year.

They signal the coming of the end.

And yet, before we reach the end,

Before we reach the harsh cold of winter,

We give thanks; we celebrate thanks,

We give gifts to each other,

We turn unselfish,

We celebrate, eat, drink, and be merry,

(even if there is an air of cynical commercialism),

once again I’ll try to focus on

the deeper meaning,

the true intent,

and squeeze my eyes tighly shut,

in my attempt to block out the negative,

in some sort of intentional state of positivity.

And in the end,

we’re not at an end,

for every end,

is also a beginning,

a new year,

then a new spring.

For I know the seasons must change,

and after winter must come spring,

even if this was a muted fall.

There will be a new colorful splash,

our next glimmer of hope that we can look forward to

and take in that new breath of scenery,

then open our eyes wide open

in some sort of awakening state of joy.

And I’m no longer scared,

And I’m no longer afraid,

I just have to make it through the rain,

and the dark,

and stand tall.

It's Time To Talk About...Time

I had someone ask me the other day a question about the way I spend my time, and it made me think. Actually, I should state that in the present tense; as it’s still making me think. The question was specific to the time I spend alone, when I am out and about, roaming and exploring and sometimes just being. And the question, which I am paraphrasing, was, “when you’re spending your time in that way, would you rather spend that time alone as you’re doing now, or with someone?” For me, it’s a fascinating question. My first immediate answer was, “with someone.” Then, my second almost-as-immediate answer, when I thought about some of the things I do, was “well, no, alone.” Then, when I took some time to think about it, I think I ended up with an “it depends” kind of answer. It depends on how I was spending my time, and where I was spending that time, and who that someone would be at that time, and what frame of mind was in, etc., etc., etc., but sometimes it would be nice to have someone along for the ride, but at other times it’s nice to be alone. 

Well, now I am spending some time thinking about…time. Maybe it’s about time I wrote a post about time. There’s no time like the present, eh?

What is time?