“The unfolding of the year”

Time is never going backward. I’m 9 months deep into the year. I’m closer to the end than I am to the beginning. I’ve leaned into my gifts and my vices. The year is unraveling as it unfolds.

“And now our season is here“

It’s time isn’t it? It’s the beginning or the end, depending on how you see it. Autumnal ambiguities have no rival rationales in winter, spring, and summer.

“All the balances are clear“

The inequity of my experience has made outrageous balances. Have I received love? Have a given hate? Dang. I’ve been unjust on my path to righteousness.

“Now that our time is here“

I guess it’s over. But like I said. Autumn is ambiguous. Is this death or slumber? Am I entering a nightmare or waking up from one? Or was it all a dream?

Who knows.

{lyrics by Blue States}