The Leaf

What a strange existence is that of a leaf. Beautiful and mesmerizing in its own right but indeed strange. So many leaves exist that it cannot possibly think itself unique but still it remains undaunted by this fact. It begins each morning just as the last; it flows in the wind and catches the light seemingly happy and content.

In the fall the leaf changes into brilliant hues of orange and the even more spectacular red. The autumn leaf is a thing to marvel over. Happily displaying colors and living to its fullest extent, even though it knows the end is near. Unmoved by this fact, still it shines brilliantly without shame.

Alas the time has come and the branches grow bare. Leaves all around cascade in one last daring display of chaotic choreography. Blissful chaos it is one would say. Falling, spinning, turning, twisting. Finally at rest on the ground, the leaf reflects on the past months, pauses, and is content. Peacefully dissolving into time, unnoticed, forgotten, and complete.