Choices, Chances and Changes

6:00 am I woke up to a soft chilly breeze… The sun is up but it’s hiding from the array of dark clouds.

The warmth of my coffee cup and the aroma of the ground beans gave me a reason to fill my day.

Walking through the secret pathway, fallen leaves crushed at my every step as the squirrels are up to start their errands of collecting acorns and nuts

I could hear the birds chirp and singing to a melody of their own… a chant to say ‘Hello’ and ‘How do you do?’

Looking up, the trees have begun to change its colour tranforming into different shades and streaks

The yellow leaves flashing the golden rays of the sun while the orange cast like a tincture of the sunrise.

Leaves of brown are the hues of the forest… a painted copper and amber to welcome the equinox of autumn.

The season has changed, a refreshing sign of something… an existence and a reality of the present

Looking back… the perceived image appeared a distant view of yesterday

It felt like I have walked a thousand steps and ten thousand strides more to reach where I am.

From where I’m standing, I see a parallel space… a middle ground from what comes after today.

Turning around I headed to a reserved direction… an exclusive walkway of chosen identities

The road is restricting my movement and my options to access the trail… to a route of familiarity

I tried to cross and make my own track but somehow I am entwined by the precept of tradition.

There is that notion that I am breaking custom… a ritual of old-fashioned habit

But the main aspiration is to balance the design… an exceptional drive to mend what is broken and revamp what is uplifting.

I pursued on my yearning… my passion to be distinctive from the rest whilst remaining grounded and unpretentious

Around me I see a small crowd who wears the same viewpoint… a vision to create a better transformation

Within each character carries a striking component of mastery and capabilities… an individuality of talents.

Contemplating upon my singularity, there is that glimpse of thought that maybe things will be different… what if another can imagine the small crowd’s blueprint.

Examining… framing my own imagination, a script is written but for some reason I cannot see the epilogue.

Then maybe, just maybe I may have to wait until the call of autumn has ended for winter to arrive… a call of a new season to lead a new direction.

23 Nov 2019