The last leaf.
As the mighty oak
Entered the blizzards of dusky winters,
It still retained a little age-old glory.
It still had a pride
Of never succumbing.
As the chill deepened,
Many of it was lost to time and space.
Hope and faith, however, kept it on.
Most flowers and fruits had become vestigial,
The leaves slowly wilting away.
Alone the last leaf held its reins,
On a rather more than beautiful day,
When the world was engaged in itself,
The last leaf broke its promises
And floated gleefully away, away, away…
What remained, only the mighty oak knew,
In divine abandon, it had stilled itself in truth.
-MUSINGS OF THE AWAKENING SOUL.