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Leaves Upon the Wind
Life is a wind and we are but leaves
upon it. In the tree we are born; tiny
buds of hope, of promise. How quickly we
grow and change. The tree shelters us,
it shows us the world. It raises us high
where nothing can touch us, nothing
except the wind. Soon we grow too heavy
and the tree must surrender us to the
breeze. The wind carries us high, and
for the first time we are free, and
alone. The tree still stands, tall and
proud, but it too is alone, watching us
from afar, watching us drift away. We
float and spin and soar upon its wings.
It blows us past hills and valleys and
shows us the wonders of the world. But
the longer we are gone from the tree,
the more weak and brittle we become. The
wind has left us broken. So we slowly
tumble along. Close to the ground we
trip and sputter and fall. Just as the
wind stole us away, it also brings us
back. We come to rest beside our tree,
cradled in its roots. Life has long
since left its limbs, but it still
stands, too proud to fall. Its legacy
is left behind, and we remember. We
remember how it held us high, how it
protected us, how it gave us life, and
how it let us go. So there we sit for
our few, final, precious moments,
cradled in our parents' arms,
protected from the wind.