silently powerful

(i wrote this between classes one beautiful fall morning on november 4th)

every year it's the same thing,
and yet it never gets old.
the same seasons every decade,
yet they are somehow different.
different enough to be beautiful every time.

i suppose they are like we are.
always the same but always becoming different.
constantly changing, but still the same.
still recognizable but more mature.
never able to stay too long in the same state.

i suppose they are like love is.
changing forms but keeping its core.
seemingly monotone until the point when it is reborn.
realizing once more its beauty when it starts again to fade.
silently powerful and powerfully lovely.