It’s been a while since things have worked out the way it has, and at this juncture in life I could only take a step back in wonder. The valleys were always more than obvious – trapping you in a mire of fallen signs and debris – making you cry, making you scream, and taking from you the moments you held most precious. Perhaps a smile, a moment by the water, a surprise, a seat somewhere watching the world pass you by. It made you feel useless, incapable; it made you blame yourself, hate every single thing you were. But you were always beautiful, with all your flaws, as you are now.
If you watch the flowers through the seasons, you already know the beauty of fall. Leaves turn golden, as if alchemists of old had discovered an organic method to growing gold, while others turn blood red as if a medieval battle had taken place there and then, while you were not paying it any heed. You watch anyway, as a cacophony of red and gold sweep you up in a wondrous storm of beauty; it is now more than apparent – this beauty was never possible without the withering of life, and yet the secret was that its true beauty rests in the eternity of the cycle that was. The beauty of fall lies in winter, spring, summer. Fall. Surely fall would come again, as sure as spring, winter, summer. As surely as the constellations grace our skies, beauty is eternal, as is hope.
And I do hope for a better future, even knowing that fall would come again in its tragic beauty, the winter with its unbearable cold, the spring which brings cheer to the eyes of children, and the summer which grills humanity to a satisfying tan. Spring is past, fall is gone, winter will come – I have to say, very literally – but the never ending summer that is hope ties itself to my heart, a warm breeze in the heart of darkness, and the stars smiling upon weary souls.
Date
Sometimes you just stare out there, reminiscing.
It’s been a while since things have worked out the way it has, and at this juncture in life I could only take a step back in wonder. The valleys were always more than obvious – trapping you in a mire of fallen signs and debris – making you cry, making you scream, and taking from you the moments you held most precious. Perhaps a smile, a moment by the water, a surprise, a seat somewhere watching the world pass you by. It made you feel useless, incapable; it made you blame yourself, hate every single thing you were. But you were always beautiful, with all your flaws, as you are now.
If you watch the flowers through the seasons, you already know the beauty of fall. Leaves turn golden, as if alchemists of old had discovered an organic method to growing gold, while others turn blood red as if a medieval battle had taken place there and then, while you were not paying it any heed. You watch anyway, as a cacophony of red and gold sweep you up in a wondrous storm of beauty; it is now more than apparent – this beauty was never possible without the withering of life, and yet the secret was that its true beauty rests in the eternity of the cycle that was. The beauty of fall lies in winter, spring, summer. Fall. Surely fall would come again, as sure as spring, winter, summer. As surely as the constellations grace our skies, beauty is eternal, as is hope.
And I do hope for a better future, even knowing that fall would come again in its tragic beauty, the winter with its unbearable cold, the spring which brings cheer to the eyes of children, and the summer which grills humanity to a satisfying tan. Spring is past, fall is gone, winter will come – I have to say, very literally – but the never ending summer that is hope ties itself to my heart, a warm breeze in the heart of darkness, and the stars smiling upon weary souls.
So fall. Take no heed, feel no fear. Just fall.
More
articles
Dominate.
What difference will I now make?
Whispers of the Summer.
What does the world have to show me?
Black steel.
The smile, the knife, the heart.