a feeling of leaves, to be a leaf, and from here on out the leaf stays, quiet
surely it ponders the serene, tranquil, flight. to sway and to hear a whisper in a faint breeze
what does it do?
why is it here?
is he really there?
is she really there?
it blooms from a once-bright star; awe-inspiring, generous, grandiose, though paradoxically cold
helpful, kind, it glows and provides faint warmth in her arsenal of tears, collected through years of burning
"thank you," says the leaf
the leaf's gaze fixes on the grass, wary
he is still blooming, then was, is now, and forever will be, until the day the leaf touches that grass
"open blades, moist dew, forgiving resting place, with the rest"
why would the leaf want to leave? it will only burn the water until it grows hotter with vapor
and why does it follow? the water will fizzle into the air, a spark will light, then waits one second, and will dissipate
why be a sheep among a pack of wolves?
why be the same?
achievement, excellence, success, to surmount, be of worth and to have a sense of worth. importance that never showed itself; a goal many still haven't realized. some stars burn up and die and that's it. they give and that's it. what more would plants want? should want? why want more when you can drink water?
that is what's important
is it really?
and when the day comes he leaps into an abyss of unknowns and anxieties, will it be of anything?
is it worth it?
but so it shall be
be there, be here, be heard, be under, be over, and at the same time, throw the light your own tears which holds power to draw blood so as to quench an insatiable thirst
contain, persevere, the leaf will fall someday, some way
the day for leaves and grass, it must happen one day
accept it, leaf, and you will see
"it's hard," says the leaf