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October

"Most of us, even if only for two minutes in our lives, have experienced at some time or another an inexplicable and random sense of bliss, unrelated to anything that was happening in the outside world..." (Elizabeth Gilbert)

That moment of bliss happens from time to time
It happened to me today when I was walking through the forest
Fully feeling everything with my five senses
Feeling the gravel and crunch of dead brown leaves beneath my boots
Hearing the creaky moans of the old trees in the wind
Seeing hues of fire, gold, and bronze
Smelling the morbidly sweet smell of decay
Tasting the moist air on this October day
If October were a person, she would be beautiful
But not beautiful in the mortal, conventional sense
She would have chestnut brown hair, ragged
Tangled with twigs and birch bark
Her face would be hollow, delicate, like petals in the fall
Her dress would be tattered, drooping at her shoulder
Moths, caterpillars, and spiders caught in the fibers of her gown
Squirrels, chipmunks, skunks, and rabbits would circle her round
She would be so immaculately gorgeous
That it would be incomprehensible to the human mind
October, October
Never has death been so beautiful
Only when I'm around you do I feel
Alive, complete, beautiful
A part of the world just like squirrels and oak trees
A part of the cycle from greenery to a stunning, slow death
That happens once a year in October


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