Let Autumn Come

Can you tell the difference
between the liberated
and the bound?
They have the same fringe,
the same shadow,
but those who dwell in
noble uncertainty
can feel their edges melting,
other hearts beating in the dark,
the granular nature of time

suddenly caramelized like sugar,
petals crushed to their fragrance,
breath returning to the sky.
They rest between stars
in the boundless power of doubt
without fleeing toward an answer.
Through the glow
around the body
their work of bewilderment
is accomplished.  

Don't call it “dying.”
Just let Autumn come,
whispering "yes" to what is.