It isn’t summer anymore, but even the winter hasn’t arrived yet. The bipolar September is that time of the year when the morning breeze contains just a a whiff of chilliness.
Yet the blessed season hasn’t yet bid goodbye to the hot summer.
The season can’t be compared to the visual feast that the flowers-abundant spring brings or yellow-orange foliage-laden autumn brings.
But the bipolar September has a hidden beauty of its own, embedded in its essential meaning. The month is the grey-area between the hot summery white & chilly wintry black.
Just like the primal life which exists amid the-not-so-well marked greyish hues where nothing is certain or well-defined ; hotness or cold; happiness or sadness; & even life or death…
The long life is also filled with the dull-blank moments like a September afternoon that blows the chilly December wind on your face, while the nasty sun still shines right above your head , turning the moment into a blessed moment of absolute & eternal nothingness.
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