Posted in Daily, Life, Personal Musings, poetry, Quotes

Colours Across the Path

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

Being in the tropics, the time of fall isn’t as colourful as the temperate areas. Though the winds and the rain against the mosaic of colours still mark the season of autumn. Collecting the leaves for my toddler’s scrapbook is never a job too tedious or tiring. Coming across each leaf with their own shape and colours, even though dead, each leaf has their own beauty and story to say.

“If only humans could die like the autumn leaves, with a splash of beauty and the promise of another season.” Shana Chartier

Each leaf has a story of their origin through spring, summer and travel across the wind. Each leaf may have seen the good and the bad. Some leaves may have been the vibrant green placed amongst the fragrance of flowers, while others may have been subject to the town air, of dust and grime. Despite the changes, they follow their course and change their tunes as per the season. No leaf stays the same. Like us, each leaf is subject to change and tune their travel as per the requirement of the elements, never losing out on their initial spark. Little wonder then, that even towards the end of their journey and back to being a part of the earth; they colour the lives around them, bringing joy to the faces and lives around them.

“Leaves grow old gracefully, bring such joy in their last lingering days. How vibrant and bright is their final flurry of life.” Karen Gibbs

An Autumn Leaf
Immanual Joseph

Yesterday, I was the mist of the waterfall
Tomorrow I will be a raindrop
Racing toward my destiny
But today I am the cloud
Floating amidst the mountain peaks
The hangman’s noose is empty
For I am life
I cannot be destroyed
The winds of adversity
Buffet and mould me
Yet I float free
I am freedom
The bird that flits happily
Among olive trees
I am the wind of the evergreen glades
I am boundless
Without secrets, without fear
I am love
The red ferns on mossy grass
I am Now
This hour, eternity
I know no beginning or end
I cannot be destroyed.

“The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.” Neil Gaiman