There is too much happening in the world. Lately, all I seem to think about is what are human beings doing?! Why are we here? There has to be something meaningful about being, doesn’t there? Is it love? Maybe. At least, the idea of it keeps me motivated still, IMHO we tend to do a lot of damage with that even if we get it right once in awhile. Perhaps, it’s faith? Just believing something, anything, lends power to a day, a choice, love again…we’ll see.
The Nature of Faith
This is such a delicate leaf,
Fallen from the tree,
and landed upon my open hand,
barely alive with living.
IT is yet
beautiful, shiny, and mostly green
BIG, with hints of yellow
I place it close and peer past the aura of connection
glowing from within its veins
Recognition.
Wonderous that here,
in the warmth of my care
Maybe, it is unaware of death,
Already encroaching,
Is this magic?
Would the cold ground have stirred it with a fear of Witchcraft or mysticism?
CHANGE.
Causing it to care so little for all its lost possibilities
that it dare not love
The last of these moments to bliss
Believing it still IS
a leaf
in my story
Just beginning its appointed journey?
D.E.
spilledlight.com 