the dance of the ink riddled fingers

loosing leaves

Posted in thought spills by enisea on 07/03/2012

I will joyfully report my thrill for the entrance of autumn – the most wonderful term: the only instance people can bring themselves to actually agree with the thought of dying.  Because that’s why we love autumn, it’s seeing the beauty in the deterioration of what I think are some of God’s most beautiful creations: trees.  And often it’s not until a person comes to terms with dying that they decide to focus their efforts in living beautifully.

I love trees.  Sometimes they’re most beautiful when they’re at their most vulnerable. Sort of like people.  Sometimes.

And yes, tonight, I have the audacity to relate to such a beautiful season, by dressing myself in autumn.  I feel like parts of me are dying – in the most grateful and wonderful ways. In the process of which I swing indecisively between a sadness in witnessing the leaves myself and others had begun to know and recognise as mine become weaker, and a budding excitement about the new leaves that’d grow in place of the old ones. Consequently, I’d find myself frantically trying to keep at least a few familiarities through this so-called ‘season’, yet at the same time not wanting to become accustomed to a comforting yet unsustainable habit/pattern.

It’s quite humbling and I feel a little bare – as though the few things I did well are falling from me; there’s little I can pride myself on now, and the cosy understandings that once covered me are becoming brittle and loosing life.

Not long til spring.

Trying to imagine what I’ll be like by then. Different, no doubt.

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