We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it.
Yet our opinions have no permanence;
like autumn and winter,
they gradually pass away.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape -
the loneliness of it,
the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.
The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop away from you
like leaves of Autumn.
Change is a measure of time
and, in the autumn,
time seems speeded up.
what was is not and never again will be;
what is is change.
Things are changing indeed...
it's all good!