Society’s Collapse

“You give us nature as our balm. the cycles are what keep us calm”

Can we allow it all to fall? All of it.

It’s Autumn, let us say.

First the brazen Sumac, the burning bush. Just let her burn that fire red until she turns to dust. The deceit,the false promises, the conniving, the empty dreams. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Next the yellow gold of Birch and Beech showing off before becoming stiff like dry bones, losing sap—faceless, heartless beasts withering slowly.

A new kind of light, or more light is changing the world and everthing must be baptized. Facing this light every leaf must fall.

Oak, Maple, Willow and Chestnut.

Let it. Cheer it.

Counting on color may comfort, but it is a futile pursuit. Let it fade into nothingness, then wait.

What might be possible if we accept the slow and steady dropping of all illusions?

Oh, how we loved Autumn, didn’t we?

It is all but summers’ memory now. Grieving for it for too long gives it too much gravitas.

In the end, the barrenness of branches will outlast and the leaves will be mulch , and our tears the rain for unknown seeds from unknown trees.