Seasons

He was born again under the moon of a warm Summer evening.

He’d spend his days basking in the sun and watching as twilight replaced it with the moon and stars in a brilliant display of yellow and blue and orange and white and black.

He often slept outside to fill his eyes with as much of the world coated in the dreamy light of the night sky as he  could before sleep would overtake him.

He dreamed of an eternity of a warm Summer night, one with no clouds present to obstruct his view of the moon and the stars as they often and rudely do.

In the Summer his passions burned like the sun, and day and night and day and night would pass and pass.

Then the air chilled as the Summer grew weary and had melancholy Autumn take it’s place on the earth while it rested.

He noticed how much faster the cool days bled into the even cooler nights.

He mused it must be a trick of Autumn to cast the subtle shadows of a night sky over the earth as the vibrant colors of life that were present in Summer faded into brown and red.

His days were spent crunching over the leaves, with his head cast to the dirt that was mainly obstructed by the parts of the trees too weak to survive Autumn’s bittersweet kiss that led the trees into their Winter cradles.

He almost felt his own decent as the dried shells of leaves once soft and breathing cascaded down from even the highest branches.

Twilight reminded him of the hopelessness of things radiant and beautiful lasting as it wrenched the  sun from the sky and dropped the moon and stars in its stead.

He sat shivering looking up.

The moon that usually filled him with wonder stared back, yet all he thought of now was the cold.

The Autumn that seemed eternal over worked itself before it was it’s time to rest, refrigerating the earth to prepare it for Winter’s reign.

At first the days were gray as heavy clouds covered the sky, burying the carnage of Autumn’s assault on the earth under purifying white snow.

Then the days and nights were cold and bright as the snow reflected light from dawn or dusk or anywhen in between.

During the days he’d pause to admire the feeling of the crisp frozen air as it passed in and out of his lungs.

At night the moon light shimmered in a way that he understood as if it were words,  telling all that it could see.

They spoke of the children engaged in warfare involving snow balls and forts and laughter almost in excess.

They spoke of the fish that lay dormant deep under water.

They spoke of lovers sharing body heat and warm words to stave off the frost.

The days grew warmer and longer as Winter faded and Spring began pumping life into the world.

He saw the whites and browns left behind from Winter overthrown by the greens and yellows of new life.

The water that fell from the sky was of the life giving kind, not the cold crystals tasked with forcing the earth to rest.

After twilight had done it’s work and the moon sat upon it’s throne in the sky, he would only cast it the occasional glance as he looked around, filled with inspiration and inexplicable joy from simply the  existence of the new life around him.

His eyes and mind were full of clouds and sun beams and stars and grass and trees and the moon.

Day in and day out he would fill his eyes and heart until all that was in him was ignited by the Summer sun, and he would burn until he was born again under the moon of a warm Summer evening.

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Seasons

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