Dear you (me) ,
You often think of yourself as September ..
Turning ochre , walking on trails of burnt ember . You fall oft like that last lonely leaf hanging from a bereft branch . Only to be trampled by winds of time .
//You see in yourself the soul of this earth . The one that's learnt to flow like the mighty river Ganges ..making her way through tumultuous routes to finally unite with the ocean of hope . You carry the spirit of the seasons in your being .. knowing that everything shall turn around but only when it's time //
You have patiently sat on the edge of a fading world with the only thing that keeps your pneuma alive .. the will to be you no matter what the odds might be .
/I often see you thinking of yourself as a meaningless void
But remember the power to fill this void with hues of your choice is in your hands/