I bike to class and I feel it. Autumn.
Autumn is leaves crunching, it is temperatures dropping, it is steamy breath on the trek to enlightenment. It is the feeling that the atmosphere of our world is something tangible -- something we can grasp at will and crack with force. Autumn surrounds us with the golden hues of optimism. And when I am in the deepest of struggles, I look to it for freedom.
Feeling out of place and drawn to so many different locations, autumn speaks to me of home, but not in the sense that this is the place where my soul stops searching. Autumn speaks of home in such a way that I can sense its palpable atmospheric tension, and my lost spirit settles and can at least stop and rest for a while.
Memories are hanging from the dew drops on morning spiderwebs, soft and distant but oh so close and focused. I am away, but I am there. You can hear me whispering your name to the stars as I lay me down to rest and think only of you and our redemption that will blow along the ever changing, ochre gold shades of autumn.
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