Sometimes I feel like autumn leaves, tumbling aimlessly through the sky.
I yearn for the safety of the branch.
The water that permeates the thick trunk and kept me alive.
The branches also miss the leaves,
But both leaf and tree need to realize
That the time will come,
It will come inevitably
It will come relentlessly
It will come eternally
Then the little leaf will be pulled from its mothering branch
And carried away in the wind.
There it will follow the writing of the birds
Their manifesto of Freedom
But even the wind isn’t unending
And autumn isn’t unending
So, the leaves will fall to the ground
And their landing will make them part
of something New
of something Great
In spring I will return to the branch
With a tale of the sky’s labyrinth
And the rustling promise of a new journey.