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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Amid falling leaves, I stand motionless trying to understand their falling off; is it agony of going into oblivion or joy of freedom from a bondage. But whatever it is, I feel amazed at this repetitive magic of nature; at the start of cycle of renewal in physical and metaphysical sense. Why do leaves change their colour dazzling the entire environment; and adorning bright crimson hues before kissing dust to become dust? Is it to reduce the meloncholy of baring the trees of their loss; or to celebetate a joy of freedom in anticipation of oncoming spring. Beyond a cold, grey winter when new shoots will adorn the trees; in green and other myriad hues spreading the warm cheer again. Whatever it may be, falling leaves inspire me to prepare for change; from my current state of being weather good or bad, I not know. It will, sooner or laterdesert me and like falling leaves ask me; to brace up to face cold winds and persevere, in hope of a colorful spring. This continual change will go on for ever, till eternity, I guess; the whistling breeze merrily helping leaves to fall off as an agent of change. Leaves believe they shall be replaced by fresh young ones next season; they let go and enjoy their freedom celeberating their fall dancing with wind. Yet they cannot help leaving behind a sombre mood for those still attached; signalling them to prepare for the inevitable when their turn arrives, to depart.
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