Only on an Autumn day will wading
through death make wading more fun

as sidewalks turn to graveyards made

for the leaping of the living

and the bodies of leaves burst -- midair!

to the sound of children laughing.

When I was younger, I was constantly amazed at my existence. I would hear myself speak, look at my hands, or see a photograph of myself and immediately think "my god, I'm alive. I'm a real person. How can this be?"

Now that I'm getting older this rarely happens anymore. As unfortunate as it is, it's like I've finally adjusted to being alive.