Fall

The dusk on the first day of fall. The first gentle breeze of nature's exhalation and the beginning of winter drawing its first breath. Marked by the air that now snuffs the fire in its body. A familiar breeze that elicits a memory from thousands of miles away. Beyond the horizon on the shores where it is now dawn. The fall is as it was there. A temperament soothed by the turning of time. It was then, so long ago that the wind carried the sorrowful angst off of me like dust is unsettled by an opened door. The capillary waves of fate have met each other across time to quell this interference. To remind me of what I couldn't toss into the sea. Stranded or cast away, the wanderer is a peculiar anachronism. For the wanderer has no time. The wanderer is as fleeting as love's lost grasp. Like a single drop of rain fused with a turbulent river. Why, is but a fool's errand to pursue. Why, is as god. Like fire. It creates and it destroys. But is not confined by fundamentals of good or evil. It is simply that. It is. And my pondering, my reasoning, my volition, and my endlessly mad disquietude. Is but the lament of a course stone drowned in the rocky shoals by the oceans surge. To be made smooth. To be made yielding. To me made into dust. To be dispelled throughout the sands of the earth. The wind and the sea and the tumultuous crowds are but vicissitudes of life. All this in an instant in my head. Flashes of chaotic light. A pang of cacophonous sound. The relentless and unyielding will of my mind. As the sun slips over the horizon and it's infernal meniscus recedes, the umbral curtain of night drapes over us all. The shadows in every crevice, corner, and concave shape pour out from their borders. Explode from the seams. And seep into this curtain. Melding like ink stain to ink stain on paper. Soon death shall glut itself upon the branches of trees and the frigid wind will chill the streets and highways. To the marrow of my bones the seasons will reach in. Delving into the lighter and darker parts. To exfoliate these memories and scatter them amongst the morrows. To find me again another time.