Autumn Forest

I’ve awoken in this forest again. 

Under these cedar boughs, shaking dead leaves  from my hair, I yawn and rub my eyes.

It’s already late, but sun rays are still finding their way in. The maple grove hidden inside has turned so orange, yellow, and iron red. The season is late too, and so my bones, my joints, my sinew — they all cry out their dread for the snowstorms that are always on their way, always just around the corner.

I’m sorry I’m taking so long. Just give me a few more minutes of this golden hour. 

I leave the crafted cobblestone path to sit among the roots of the largest, oldest maple tree, back against the trunk. I imagine I can feel it vibrating with life, even while knowing this place is an illusion.

So much gold. So much orange. So many splashes of red. Autumn always felt like home.

I visualize all the potential futures my small mind can muster. They reach out like soft tendrils of light, extending, snaking away from me through dead leaves. I watch them grow and reach and twist themselves around the trees, confused, as if none of them are ever quite sure where to stop. They all slow, hesitating, and I can’t help but feel as though they’re asking me the same question before they finally fade as I blink them away.

I refuse to look down at my hands now, holding that small wooden box. I refuse to look, but I caress it softly, and take comfort in its presence despite the fear still threatening to turn my stomach, having not yet been fully defeated.

The falsehoods that break this gestalt should rot on the ground here among the fallen leaves, and I’m the one with the power to make it happen. Obligation haunts me, yet I hesitate in my fear.

The twilight will soon lose the orange, lose all the beautiful gold, and finally, lose even the splashes of red in the maple canopies before everything turns to blues and grays. I can sense the fear starting to fade away too, loosening its grip. 

Time is running short. I can feel it.

October 14 – 16, 2025