Letting Go

Leaves descend with only a whisper

telling the tale of transitions

the fall through the narrow neck

of the hour glass.

As nature does,

so do we.

Time and time again,

defined by our slipping through

into something unknown,

grasping, clinging.

Free falling is never easy

and the landing only sometimes soft

but monotony is worse.

For think if the leaves were only green

and no buds ever appeared

if they desperately held on

and decayed as they are

brown and uninspired.

We must shift

We must transform

We must let go

and fall into the unknown

 

By Deshna Ubeda