in awe of it's spledor

green with life and veins pulsing with sustenance,

trees cling to their leaves under the nourishing sun.

days full of light, warm and comforting nights,

this season never lacks hope and is never dismal. 

the trees flourish, grow in beauty

and watch over all in their magnitude. 

as some provide shade, others bear fruit

and none is left wanting from these steadfast towers. 

then comes a season where the sun takes longer to rise

and is more quick to fade away.

nights grow longer, and more chill.
as the bleakness of weather descends,
the trees turn inward to survive,
gleaning life from their own merit.

the cold which pierces and sun which wanes
cast a wash of orange, yellow, and red
across the expanse of life's journey.
it is the season when onlookers no longer ask or want
but look on to appreciate the vibrance that strikes the soul.
it is when each tree stands out in it's own fighting color
to tell of it's own story and join in the chorus of autumn;
a chorus of human suffering and strife.

i know now.
i know that when autumn falls upon the soul of a human,
that is when the soul truly sings and cries in vibrant glory
of it's own tale, of it's own strength.
and yet stands not alone, but with the tall and the strong.

and so, cry not for the suffering you undergo!
but cry for those who cannot see the vibrance of their soul
which shakes the earth into awe at it's splendor.