Breaking Throuh

The mist is lifting, soon the world will reveal itself to be just shorelines between one dream and another. I need to be away. my last Autumn will be as my first, something undefined, yet always pushing me along, a moving stream still ferrying last year's fallen leaf. This season the foliage is burning brighter, a deeper hue has caught fire, and when the trees are bare will I keep walking between them or shall I be a luminous river in flood, creating shorelines where none before have ever existed.