buried under the voluminous gray skies, the quiet spirit of autumn lingers heavily;
it has come like a sudden shadow, opening up a new world and silencing the last echoes of summer;
winsome hopefulness soars on the tail of the wind and flies along with the black and gray feathers of the chickadees. with it, the world waits with baited breath. will we find ourselves wrapped in a blanket of winter without tasting the full glory of autumn? will the winter winds find their strength where the autumn leaves lost theirs?
we cannot tell, for we are only here to feel and experience and know what is given to us.
this world is free to come and go, and so I am not who I am through great mastery of myself;
I too am like the sudden shadow, sweeping across a world in a moment of time and lost again in another.
how can we grasp what is not ours to keep?
The Silent Storyteller 
This is powerful, beautiful and profound. Love this part especially: “we cannot tell, for we are only here to feel and experience and know what is given to us.
this world is free to come and go, and so I am not who I am through great mastery of myself;
I too am like the sudden shadow, sweeping across a world in a moment of time and lost again in another.
how can we grasp what is not ours to keep?”
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