The deciduous transfiguration quietly approaches through the gentle flashovers of spontaneous pigments that course through our national parks and nature itself this year. Brittle flaked veins of leaves and wildlife are twinkled by a bioluminescent gold that is beginning to hover over the evergreen. Yet, through the ravines carved over the long haul, they are deteriorating with every single layoff that has been occurring by the magisterial federal administration through these vocations meant to preserve the graceful wildlife that we deem to treasure so grandly. Despite the epitome performances these thousands of ardent idiosyncrasies have showcased, National Park employees’ lives have been flipped upside down to plummet into a tarnished mosaic of disconsolate and crestfallen fractures that traverse far in these grails. Without cognizance of their disposition, persona, or contribution to the complex and delicate positions that are demanded for protecting the already understaffed, surreal phenomena are in every corner of our peripheral vision. Flowing in a mystifying current and fragility of failing to safeguard trails, forests, and waterways from our own overuse and calamities. We are not just guests in nature, we are stewards of the land who should stand for these exquisite spaces being neglected in hygiene, accessibility, and much more through the curtailing workforce. Unconsciously, being performers of hollow defiance as we become each other understudies without insight. Tantalizing our own vantage points when the deliverance runs out of time and it all fades into a nostalgic, fleeting stardust we will attempt to grapple with.
It leaves us with the lingering questions, like this one: Will the novelties consist of the wildflowers becoming rooftops, branches becoming cinders, our lights putting the starts to death, and borderlands dwelling over the roots that yearn to tear through until the cycle of total demolishing dawns on the world? For its magnificence to finally make sense to us, will the grasses have to be devoid of the magical invisible string that ties us to it below kinetic skies? We brandish unknowingly the arboreal cathedrals and tiny lavenders that break through the underbrush until the crimson blemishes elucidate enough to shatter our veneer of ignorance.
The same trees whose gnarly roots elegantly soar skywards to the tangled constellations to watch and sprinkle catharsis with each knothole that inflates our lungs with sweet airs in a tamed, non judgemental, and unapologetic way beautifies and transcends time with our allowance. The very thing that keeps record of each passing day with stories filled with history beyond our existences where the bear that ambles and wild go hand in hand though pocketed hills where animals scamper, oblivious to the precarious limbs that splay this way and that way being intruded. All point passing the multiplying entities of the sparkling sands kicked in front of a bokeh, glistening white pours, prairies, and reflective waters flowing through stones, lucid and free like the elder and young that come to have the millennials in their hands. As the deciduous cycle approaches, be aware and transfixed of such colors that take up the space splendidly and the language unspoken by anyone else. Before it all curtails to a nameless, placeless, otherness, I advise to take even the tiniest action when walking upon nature to look after the divine nature being eroded gradually that has encompassed us since white milk teeth meant to follow through each timeless chapter if we avail each other.
