A quick word:
As Autumn approaches it begins to become visible
It's as if someone has kissed the tops of the trees
The leaves are green from the ground up
But the tree tops are kissed with color
It is a transition from one season to the next.
Is that like me?
Am I in a transition of seasons?
Are you trying to leave me behind?
I'm not really sure where I'm going this time
There have been times of death
And places where death should be
But reviving my flesh might be the death of me.
So I'll go on living
Knowing there is life out there
Knowing life can be in here
And that I should not seek to define myself in anything outward.
Even things that come from within shouldn't be who I am.
But I plan to go on living
And hope that certain aspects will again begin dying.