I am reaching
the end of the longest
and most arduous chapter
of my young
life

I do not know how
it will end

perhaps in divinity
perhaps in destruction
perhaps in death

but I do know it is
fast approaching

I can hear it on the wind,
whispering,
that voice
that reminds me
when things aren’t going
as planned,
that things must
change,
that summer must turn
to fall,
fall to winter,
and the leaves must fall
and the trees grow
bare

I can see the storm brewing
as the first flakes of snow
float down and melt upon
the ground

the only thing to do is pull my coat closer,
bear my face against the piercing wind,
pray for a home ahead, forget all that I
worry, and remember all the good I know

the chapter ends in whiteness,
a static out of which anything
can emerge