Leaf of Doubt
A person's last breath
Should be that
Of an Autumn leaf
Gently gliding
To land serenely on
Earth's surface.
Doubt is like
A cold wind's whisper
Declaring it's presence,
Whisking the beautiful leaf
In two directions:
For it floats toward
The abyss and the heavens.
As much as one
Does truly doubt
One equally yearns to believe,
And as the leaf disseminates
In a sort of malign peace,
We fall apart.
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