The leaves are blowing across the courtyard out side my window and as I sit here, with nothing to do, I wonder what the next change of seasons will bring. Last autumn I fell, this autumn I rise. Last winter I waited in dark cold rooms, and this winter I hope for a spark of warmth as the world falls silent and white. Life moves under the roof for a while, hiding is the sun, born again are the Rainey days of my life. Gentle Wind pushes me further down the path, looking ahead, the Morning Star the brightest in my sky, followed by the Distant Sun. They are my guides, my reason to continue through the storm of my ever lasting fight against what is, and what I will it to be. My path was marred by the muddy bogs of life, pulling me down, now a distant memory. I will no longer take for granted the fork in my path, which way, a choice that is mine, and mine alone. Perhaps not completely, for the Star and the radiating warmth of the Sun lead me, pushing, telling me that failure isn’t an option. Climbing high in the mountain of obstacles, the Sun goes first, showing me the way… Can you believe I got that from falling leaves?