But First, Poetry by me.

[synapticjava]

The wind whispers
and screams in colors.
Vibrant red shouts it praises.
Orange explodes in my mind
and cries its vengence.
My soul escapes through keys
and is released to soar.
Yet still the roots remain.
Still my feet are planted
and shall remain.
I cannot cease spinning
and surging
and hurting
and loving.
The breeze whispers
within me.
Yet I cannot let go
of these holds.
I am caught up
in these colors
and words and sounds.
For this is what it is to be myself in the Autumn.