A Crisp, Autumn Breeze

The tree pulsated with the moving wind. Reds mixed with orange and yellows mixed with brown. The world took upon it a vibrant sense of life. The colors electrified the crisp, alert air, and my senses were forced to succumb. Yet, a part of me was distant, a part of me was forced to view the scene objectively. What a feeling. What a struggle. We are second to this world, we are under its power, but it is after our own world has been truly exposed that we are forced to see the pain in all of the beauty. That is humanity’s weakness; so ironic. Only after we recognize the beauty of all things is it taken away. Only then, in our moment of understanding are we left with more questions. Only then.

The scent of rich soil filled the air as I began my stroll. The path was littered with forgotten memories; some weathered and faded, while others still fresh and animated. The lively trees shed these with little to no remorse, occasionally giving an unforeseen shudder, only to regain control almost immediately. It was in this kind of place that those fought their hardest to retain their own emotions. It was this sense of control that provided all things with security. People are not much different from trees. Both start out small and vulnerable, growing into a sturdy and efficient being. And as both progress, they, in turn, see what life entails, losing what is most firmly attached, only to grow more attachments and lose those as well. In the end, unfortunately, most seem to find the loss of their attachments more impacting than the attachments themselves. We continue attempting to fill those gaps until they can no longer be filled, and then we pass. Here it ends.

The sun sat firmly perched above a tall oak, with which he seemed to be conversing. A deep golden brown, the autumn sun brought life into this otherwise dead place. Such sadness allowed me to stand against the beauty; it is difficult to see through such a trap. As ashamed as I am over my loss of vision, I still appreciate the knowledge that I have been given. Ignorance is in fact bliss. Yes, this is true. Knowledge, though, is empowering, is comforting in its own right. For a brief moment the wind again consumed me, and my imagination was swept away. Such a feeling, such a wonderful feeling. I stood, eyes heavenward, arms stretched. How to describe such a feeling? It was as if an invisible being had lifted me onto their wings, as if I was soaring through a cool, clear stream of light. As if the colors were inside and out- the vibrancy they stood for was coursing through my soul, my being. It was as though pleasure no longer existed, for pleasure stood for something that was fleeting. This was an undying existence. This was the most comforting of feelings, one very easy to become lost in. Yet, that was only a moment, only a single moment out of my life. Just one.

It was on this day, this crisp, autumn breeze, that I went for the very last time. The path had led me to my destination, had brought me to the place that I had avoided for most of my life. I did not like the dismal; I did not care for the shadows. This is why I detested such a place- so much corrupted beauty. I chose this time, this place, somewhere in some past life. In my humble beginnings, I chose this to be my moment of decision, this to be my moment of confrontation. I feared this place. I feared what it might mean. I feared what it might bring. How could I change? How could what I believe be altered yet again?

A small breeze signaled me to stop. There I stood. There it stood. A monument against me. I turned quickly, as though someone were standing directly behind me. I looked in all directions. Frantically I searched. For a brief moment I suddenly found the whole thing to be a prank, an elaborate design to destroy me, to trick me into losing everything. After a few moments of paranoia, though, I sighed, and realized the audacities of my assumptions.

Again I turned heavenward and closed my eyes, waiting for my angel. Waiting for my wings. It was then that the wind died down. The trees slowly stopped their hypnotic sway. The leaves stopped mixing, stopped shedding. Silence. It was my turn; it was my turn to have my very own moment.

I opened my eyes and finally looked down, finally looking at the reality in which I had been living, but avoiding. Existing, but drifting. Avoidance is a way of not accepting that which you must. Avoidance, to me, is humorous, for avoidance is inevitable. Although, those things which accompany avoidance too are inevitable. Life is based upon a series of ironies, as if humanity were some complex cosmic yarn. It is life’s direct intention to be insincere; simply enjoying what humanity casually views as quirks of fate. So there I stood, face to face, with my very own irony.

“I would speak but would receive no answer.” I had been going over the speech for most of my life. I was never sure if I would need to actually say it aloud, but, for whatever the reason, I made sure to know the words by heart.

“I would hear but would receive no sound.” A single tear forced its way out of the lower left corner of my right eye as I spoke; I could not withhold emotion in such a situation.

“I would love but would receive no love in return.” As unstable as I undoubtedly appeared, my voice did not waver. I did not dare disturb the seriousness of my words.

“I would have given all in the wake of you; I would have given all in the memory.”

A slight pause, and then, “If you speak you shall receive no answer. If you hear you will receive no sound. If you love you will receive no love in return. And if you give, you will find nothing.” Silence.

“I shed myself of you.”

A crisp, autumn breeze. Such a wonderful feeling. As is the struggle, the objectivity. As is the control, the order. As is the one, single moment. Such a blend crafts this life, such a bittersweet verve. I think that birth must be a wonderful experience, what with the originality of it all. Many assume that memory does not exist at birth, which is the very reason that there is no personal account of it. I, however, tend to hold a different belief. It is my apprehension that birth is far too fantastic a feeling to maintain for one’s entire life, matched only by the feeling upon passing from this fair earth. It is my belief that we make a very conscious decision to disregard this feeling immediately- for, it is not one’s purpose to spend life dwelling on the absence of it. So it was then that I had been born, reentered into life, given a second, redeeming existence. Such a feeling needed to be discounted straight away. But, as it was before, I knew it was only a moment. Just another moment that went towards the construction of my life. Just one moment lost in a series of forever. And I would not have had it any other way.

A guy