I walk through a shattered forest on an unseasonably warm fall morning. Taken with the fog as it claims each winding corner of the creek. The earthen smell of summer’s decay in the air. The last stand of goldenrod, twisted and broken soldiers that refuse to yield just yet. The fallen leaves beneath my feet, oak, cherry, maple, reminding me that we too have a season. let go…let go…let go… Claim what is past and thank her tenderly. Hold her as she has you and bid her farewell, knowing that in the stardust you might find her again. The depths of a soul, the roots underground, the vastness of the universe unkown. These things do not end.
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