The ill-tempered wind whips through me leaving my body filled with chills in its wake. The fallen leaves crunches conspicuously beneath my feet reminding me that I walk among the dying.
The scene around me steals my breath again and again with its sighing sorrow.
And yet thrills continue to shoot throughout my being as I take shot after shot of this broken, aging maiden, giving her best before she breathes her last.
What is it that draws me into the death,
in the face of certain doom,
she yet gives her best, her very best,
seemingly thinking nothing of herself,
but only of the fragrance to the world that her life,
even her death bring.
She is not like Spring, whose vibrance and luster for life is contagious and infectious, holding promise, newness, redemption. Her beauty is not simply from the desire for life; it is from the living of that life. The joys, the laughter, the wonder, and even the heart breaks and tragedies.
Autumn knows what is to come.
Her wisdom flows from her breezes, her branches, her heartsong singing ballads of days gone by.
She faces it bravely, putting on her most royal robes as a sign, not of surrender, but of purpose, of destiny.
She has surrendered.
She has fought the good fight.
She has kept the faith.
She has finished the race.
Only for now...
She reminds me to walk bravely into the desert, the winter, the quiet places
She opens my eyes to the beauty unseen in the dying.
The beauty that one can only see when brokenness became your anthem, your mantra, your identify.
But you survive....
Her beauty brings peace.
Proverbs 31:25 says,
"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come."