Each morning I wake up, my room always feels a bit cozy; it makes me feel lazy and not want to get out of my warm bed. I struggle, I debate, nevertheless, I make a conscious effort to get up, and look out my window, watching the leaves move in the wind blowing across the forest of Mont Royale. How peaceful a morning, a new beginning.
Each morning there's a subtle change of colour on the leaves. Just weeks ago, they were green, deep green, ever-green, as if they would never fade. They seemed invincible, having withstood the thunders and lightnings of midsummer nights.
Now as temperature drops, the sky falls, burdening the mind already full with onerous thoughts... Wind picks up, carrying a sharp chill, cuts through the tender skin on the face. What does it mean to be in nature's cycle? The rise and fall of the tides to the histories of empires. The days and nights of the month to the man's Ying and Yang.
Oh that men's inner strife
Vulnerability of life.
Now this fallen leaf,
returning to nature,
more mature,
than what it once was.
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