A leaf does not beg the branch to hold,
Nor curse the wind where it goes
It turns, it sways, it follows air
As clouds move and rivers run.
Mountains watch but never reach
The leaf is not burdened by return-
as it has never left.
It lands where it must- silent, sure
drinking deep the hush
What falls was always falling.
What stays was never still.


Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Miraman, in the year 968 AF.