Autumn, the nuclear ascension into Winter: lovely, grey and cold bones.
The Fall, the fall into frozen serenity. The cruelest part, the transition, the crystal lucubratory. And I learn and learn and learn.
The day is dawning, warming now, and mornings are no longer mourning. From downpour to trickle, the season quells the tempo.
The end is nigh; nay — the end is nothing more than a fear.
Until I fade, you fade. The “we” becomes desolate, uneven, and eventually separate. No more worries or cares. No more, no less, only change and always an exclusive perspective.
Though one is gone,
One remains; and others, too, until we fade.