I’m standing in the doorway. In the doorway between summer and fall. I like better the term of “fall” than “autumn”. It describes better the season…nature is falling, decaying, dying. The fall of nature in her death. To prepare for a winter-long sleep.
I loved it when I was a little child how in poems and stories the snow was described as a blanket for all living creatures underneath it. I couldn’t help wondering why they call it a blanket and when I touch I could barely hold it in my hands for more than a couple of a seconds. It didn’t make sense.
Anyway, back to the doorway…I’m still looking behind every now and then, to see if the sun is still shining, to warm up one last time. I see it shine, it’s setting but it doesn’t warm my hands anymore. No, it’s cold outside. And inside, especially inside. Although it doesn’t make any sense, cause the sun is still shining. It reminds me of when I was little, of the snow blanket..
Should I let myself fooled by the illusion of the sun or let myself fall?
I walked through wind and rain today, stepped on almost dead leaves. I couldn’t see their tears anymore because of the rain. Maybe that’s why it was raining, the sky was crying. I should also cry. We could all cry.
One must die to be born again.