Tonight

The weather is finally beginning to break here. When I walk among the oldest of alumni here at Cumberland, they speak to me in the voice that is almost the wax whisper of August and almost the rustle of their November ball gowns. The air that gives freedom to their thoughts is crisp and it refreshingly waltzs through the calm that holds them. The skies are clothed in silver and gold gauze by day, and in the deepest of star scattered midnight blue velvets by night; through them blows the winds that will bring glittering snows and carry away the birds to their holiday. The world is preparing for the great masquerade of the fall, and I am relishing the life that springs from dying. Of course, the artist has designed it that way, He makes His messages brilliantly clear when those viewing are willing to open their eyes. The world seems most alive in my eyes when it is fully conscious of it's mortality. I want to be the same. I want the crisp and refreshing air flooding my lungs with life, each breath making me more aware that I am alive. My life here is short, especially in comparison to all of time and eternity, and I would absolutely love to live in a blaze of continual autumnal glory.