Thursday, March 27, 2008

Transient Reality


Like the fresh green leaves

Sprouting out of the tree in the dawn of life

Young and tender they lift their heads

Knowing not what to do

Curiously enough they grow

Constantly dancing to the tunes of the wind

Not knowing, not aware

But still dancing

And in those long hot days

When the winds seem to have been banished

The leaf lies still

Waiting for the enchanting winds

Lifelessly hanging on

As it slowly ages

Telling itself that it is indeed alive

And that the winds, they would come

To vanquish the wrath of the sun

Off the face of the earth

Only the warmth would remain

The rains, they would come

To quench their thirst and to breed new life

Then at last all its prayers come to being

The winds blew warmly

The rains flew down gently

The leaf did dance till evermore

In its prime, the leaf slowly faced the truth

Its time had indeed come and it frowned

Withered away into the grounds

It fell from the tree

Like so many of its kind

But the tree did remain

Not wavered by the winds

Unfazed by the heat

Unrelenting to the storm

Its deep roots sunk in

The tree is the giver of the life

The tree is the life

The tree only remains

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