Fall’s destruction is a means of recreating.  Fall is so beautiful, like the curiosity in a baby, but it is so unnerving like the breaking of a piece of art.  Fall has to be divinely beautiful to ease the transition from sunny paradise to the brutal hug of winter.  In this transitional time, we are broken apart and smashed to ruins like an east coast earthquake.  The thought of building it all back up again is daunting, seemingly impossible.  Is it even worth that burst of exploding energy to recreate again?  It is tiring, all this change, all the beauty around.

Coffee is not seemingly enough to want to conquer these diamond dreams lately.  I am being dragged down with Fall’s heavy and demanding hand.  I sleep, I stretch, I seek the sun, I await the wheels of change to start to flow again.  To find that spark to start the construction, the jump to get my heart racing, to finally get sick of the simple.  I want to overcomplicate my plate once again, but even the espresso seems to have gotten weaker.

The circles of creativity and growth, in this season of change you have to be content with the sluggish shuffle of self fulfillment, but still dream with a translucent shimmer over your monotone eyes.  Out of this rubble a better version is going to be unsurfaced, more rubies will be formed, more colors will be created, more complicated structures will dominate like a Dr. Seuss city.