My soul, the dead leaf…

The wind rustles leaves outside my window..
Making me question my own existence..
Wondering if my soul is like that of the dry leaves..
Swirling around in this world.. born from the branches of life
To go through the spring, summer and then fall of my time..
Budding as a child.. Soaking in the love…The sun…
Blossoming into a strong faction of the tree of life..
Only to wilt one day.. in the winter of my time..
The slow drift and fall, into the autumn pile..
Swept by the winds of fate that grazed my surface
The rains that wet my underside..
The birds who sang sweet melodies near me..
The whisper of the wind on my skin…that feeling…
That connection with life… that I will never lose..
I may be a dead leaf on the dirty ground..
But I was and still am.. part of the circle of life.

11/29/2003

Author's Note: I wrote this on a windy morning.. very intorspective morning at that...

Posted on 11/29/2003
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