“On the Cusp”

leaves-in-the-wind-tim-fillingim

The length of our days is seventy years – or eighty if we have the strength;
yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.”
Psalm 90:10 (NIV 1984)

On the cusp of change.
Who stands against the force of natures ways and winds?
Nothing is the same. Nothing. Nor will it ever be. Time passage makes sure of that.
Loss of vibrancy. Loss of life. Loss of connections once secure.
Altered every waking moment. Some violent and swift.
Some stealthy and subtle, changing so gently, barely discernible.
Glorious color, tinged with frost, set ablaze by sun ray.
Tones and hues shifting from light to dark. From life to death.
Silence beckons. From sighing and soughing to quiet chaos.
Soaking in the wild. Yearning for, uncertain.
Longing for holding on, even as pulled from place.
Out of control. Losing all that’s known to utter confusion. Blinding.
Buffeted by unfamiliarity. Direction guided by whim of current.
Drifting, soaring, caught up in turmoil.
Setting down in finality far from home.
Different.
Withered fragrance scents the air,
Causing soul to hunger for total abandon.
The perfume of melancholy evokes nostalgia deep,
Missing the no more.
Spend wisely the length of you days,
just as the days of leaves are numbered,
so too our span quickly passes, and we fly away.

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