Let Autumn Come

Can you tell the difference
between the liberated
and the bound?
They have the same limits,
the same human fringe
and shadow.
But those who dwell in
noble uncertainty
can feel their edges melt,
other hearts
beating in the dark.
They taste the granular
discontinuity of time
caramelized like sugar,
the petal crushed into its fragrance,
breath returning
to the sky.
They rest between
the moon and stars
in the boundless power of doubt
without fleeing
toward an answer.
Through a glow around the body
their work of bewilderment
is accomplished. 
They don't call it “dying.”
They let Autumn come,
whispering "yes"
to what is.