Oct 2010
Only when the leaves die…
Time changes; days shorten and nights lengthen.
I fall as the colors change.
I fall as the temperature changes.
This proverbial color wheel is always on time,
it happens every year, and yet my comfort stays the same.
There is no change, same expression, that of a surly disposition.
Not having the warmth of sunlight might be a factor, but
I need to learn how to change my schedule.
Like a monster peering at a full moon; the Harvest moon is gleaming at me, taunting.
I stare at my hands, which gradually turn red.
The weather has me feeling cold.
I’m cold.
Less time; less sunlight; less patience; more irrational thought to consume.
Orange rays of light turn to a dark sky with an orange orb.
A prophecy that is told light-years away; a lifetime away that’s not in reach.
I hold my red hands above my head as I try to grasp the orange glow.
And deep down I know that is the wheel turning; the color wheel turning counter clockwise.
My world is shattered while staring above.
Everything is going back, but not in time.
Time has slowed. My universe is spinning too fast.
I’m disoriented.
I suppose this is normal.
I should know this is a constant in our world.
Seasons will change.
Time will change.
People, places, things.
But, I’m at a loss for words.
I keep thinking of nouns, when I can’t place the right verb.
Hours will pass and the days will pass.
Days will turn into weeks.
It will become colder, and that is when warmth is needed.
I need body heat.
I need to be surrounded by loved ones, but…
But that also takes time.
It is a transitional period.
It is to a degree.
Or for a lack of better words: It’s adding wood to the fire.
Crying is pointless.
Tears turn to icicles in a matter of seconds.
Which is self-loathing frozen in time.
And as the months move by…
The sun shines brighter; melting my sorrows and eventually evaporating.
My fears and troubles rise above me.
They get lost in the clouds.
And those days when it rains,
when people feel uneasy.
I know it’s our troubles falling back down.
The temperature rises, and I am content.
I hold my hands above my head as I try to grasp the orange glow.
And it feels good…
It’s good.
Until, everything starts to change once again.
And then I fall into my yearly routine.
Only when the leaves die…
Time changes; days shorten and nights lengthen.
I fall as the colors change.
I fall as the temperature changes.
This proverbial color wheel is always on time,
it happens every year, and yet my comfort stays the same.
There is no change, same expression, that of a surly disposition.
Not having the warmth of sunlight might be a factor, but
I need to learn how to change my schedule.
Like a monster peering at a full moon; the Harvest moon is gleaming at me, taunting.
I stare at my hands, which gradually turn red.
The weather has me feeling cold.
I’m cold.
Less time; less sunlight; less patience; more irrational thought to consume.
Orange rays of light turn to a dark sky with an orange orb.
A prophecy that is told light-years away; a lifetime away that’s not in reach.
I hold my red hands above my head as I try to grasp the orange glow.
And deep down I know that is the wheel turning; the color wheel turning counter clockwise.
My world is shattered while staring above.
Everything is going back, but not in time.
Time has slowed. My universe is spinning too fast.
I’m disoriented.
I suppose this is normal.
I should know this is a constant in our world.
Seasons will change.
Time will change.
People, places, things.
But, I’m at a loss for words.
I keep thinking of nouns, when I can’t place the right verb.
Hours will pass and the days will pass.
Days will turn into weeks.
It will become colder, and that is when warmth is needed.
I need body heat.
I need to be surrounded by loved ones, but…
But that also takes time.
It is a transitional period.
It is to a degree.
Or for a lack of better words: It’s adding wood to the fire.
Crying is pointless.
Tears turn to icicles in a matter of seconds.
Which is self-loathing frozen in time.
And as the months move by…
The sun shines brighter; melting my sorrows and eventually evaporating.
My fears and troubles rise above me.
They get lost in the clouds.
And those days when it rains,
when people feel uneasy.
I know it’s our troubles falling back down.
The temperature rises, and I am content.
I hold my hands above my head as I try to grasp the orange glow.
And it feels good…
It’s good.
Until, everything starts to change once again.
And then I fall into my yearly routine.
Only when the leaves die…
