Unnamed Has Value

 Many times in the recent past, I have found myself incoherent 

when attempting to describe something within.

It's caused humiliation and shame.

A failure to verbalize something with language

 another can understand

seems imperative for someone 

who attempts to write.

It was encouraging to come across this quote

and consider another way of seeing it.

By the way, the forest is golden these days.

It’s a forest of gold in autumn.

It’s a forest of cold and chilly and clear 

on this seventh day of November.

It speaks a parable to the beauty in dying.  

This dying process, 

done in color 

is a harbinger of new life.

A testimony to letting go… 

to the spiral of life...

to resurrection.

To the ever trust-worthy return of the light 

even after the most entrenched darkness. 

The earth is embracing me in this forest of gold.

Reminding me how astonishingly beautiful dying can be.

As astonishingly beautiful as living itself.

Gazing into the sun is too much 

for these human eyes.

(I’m blinded by the light 

yet I receive new sight). 

I require a buffer 

to view its reflection

To witness its presence within 

and among the shadows.

Sometimes its best to turn away

and know it glows behind me.

What a treasure, 

this morning with 

the shadows and the light, 

accompanying, 

reminding, 

restoring, 

redeeming.

kastilwell