inspiration Love

My Autumn Stranger

Somewhere along this way, amongst this green piece of land, in between autumn trees and falling lullabies, I caught a glimpse of a stranger’s eyes. We stared and then looked away, and he shied into a little pathway aside from mine. I heard his footsteps crushing little fallen leaves gently and I followed the sound. He whispered stay away as he moved ahead.

In that autumn theme the stranger stopped and I stopped. His eyes were young just like mine, but they dared not dive as deep.

In that dream of a day I wanted him to come with me, I could show him the world. I wanted him to forget the entity that pressured him and let go of the boundaries in his mind. His soul looked so sweet but his mind dared not doubt. Again unlike mine, my mind went to extents of doubt that would make any weak soul break apart. I understood he was afraid of that, he simply feared he might lose himself on my path.

We stood in a painting in the middle of a world of yellow and brown, our skin reflected the same colors and I yearned for his approval. That stranger knew I was on a difficult journey, yet he felt my sincerity. He stood in confusion and sadness shuffling his spirit. Without our noticing, the first image of doubt was drawn in his head; and uncertainty left him in indecision whether to join me or watch me go.

He was a stranger, and so was I, but then again weren’t we all. We remain strangers for lifetimes if we dared not dive into the worlds of each other. The autumn lullaby became a symphony as uncertainty danced and swayed around and between us. It was a beautiful dancer who was inexplicably moving our worlds along to its steps.

The painting we stood in as strangers was far from finished, and so destiny spoke to us through our painter’s brush. It drew us closer as autumn became more hopeful; my stranger became my confidante, he took uncertainty in his arms. He decided to dance with it, to sway it and love it as long as it holds the possibility of shifting partners one day. When that happens we would dance our way out of that painting and into a land of our own.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.