The Soon Song of Autumn

Humanity continuously puzzles and frustrates - how could we be so blind? The beauty we all take for granted is withering, turning to ash before our eyes and yet, we do nothing. The love we all take for granted is dissipating, transforming into bitterness and yet, we are silent. Longing for romance today, I peered out of the window at the dreary sky. Death on every living creatures lips from the fall, not of leaves, but of reason. An absence of curiosity and compassion has killed romance. 

Before you and me, there was the leaf, the tree. A flower in bloom garnered the attention of the sun and moon, the rains and the stars. Not one being ever overlooked. A simple blossom becomes a miracle, showcasing the driving force of resilient life. And what of us now? A moment is golden and we snap an instantaneous memory, soon to be lost to the depths of technology and self-obsession, ego and neurosis. Gone are the days of making a spectacle of wonder, sitting in the awestruck feelings. 

The breath of a lover laughing in the cool night lights up my skies, sends a quake through my shoulders as I realize how much I adore him. Our hot breath against the chilled air forms puffy plumes of white that disappear as quickly as they came. In these moments, I am absolutely present, reaching for nothing but more hope that he might belly laugh again. These are the moments of pleasure, the moments of fulfillment, the moments of living that a photo or an app or anything other than being could ever capture. Each moment of kindness, of laughter, and joy weave into the tapestry of the language of the universe. The tragedy of man won’t be found within the act of his own self-destruction, but in his apathetic indifference to it. 

What is love? Love is the condition in which we continuously find ourselves. In the sacred space of consciousness outside the realm of identity, the quiet filling up of ourselves with a warm liquid gold is a feeling that is love. When reacting from a place of compassion to an angry child or a crying bystander, this is love. Offering everything you have, not so that the other will be with and you will be without, but because you know that what you give you receive, what you relinquish replenishes, because you and the other are not you and the other at all. You and the other are one in the same, the same in composition of stardust and love.

A deep yearning I frequently hold onto in this iteration of life is one of longing to love and be loved in return, certainly sometimes an illusionary truly, madly, deeply. Surely it’s out of a lack of loving myself, but I ruminate on if my love alone is enough. Is the sun that adores the flower the same sun waiting to bestow its adoration upon me?

A tender touch of my own skin warms me for minutes, but the man I love’s touch seems to warm me for days. A smile from my own face unto myself keeps me holding on for a few more hours, and yet even one quick flash of his teeth can sustain me all through the week. A sucker for tender romance, I am a fool for the magic of anything reminiscent of this love. I’ve felt this way once before, eons ago. Unrecognizable now when I gaze upon his face, but if formally reunited I suspect all the dormant feelings would roar up again, like a ferocious hurricane bashing against his calm. The unrequited love and overwhelm of emotion I’ve long laid to sleep still resides in the recesses inside. Anything he did was crystalline, sparkling perfection under the sunshine of my love. Although the question remains, was it him that lifted me up, or was it my own luminescence giving me wings?

As dawn approaches and everything begins anew, the birds do not confer on love. Rather, they sing as Mother Nature beckons. The birds must sing. Never waiting for another queue, never questioning the urge to tweet, never asking for the melody, the accompaniment to their lives. The birds just sing. Present for only themselves and their immediate audience of trees, bugs, and other living things, love rings throughout the air within the harmonious song of the universe. Lucky for me, I’m gratefully deprived of the new world’s constant barrage of connectivity allowing for me to simultaneously witness and contribute to the wondrous cosmic tune of life.