Every Fall, I used to consider the leaves,
Falling from the wind-shaken trees.
First, as a child, I’d hearten to know they’d come back:
First as buds then in full-green without any lack.
But as I grew older and chose my own path,
Season after season passed
From death to life to death to life,
And I began to rue when the leaves died.
All they did was fall to the ground and break apart.
Wasn’t human life final, decomposing in the same twisted way?
So, yearly, with the coming cold, I lost heart
And had nothing productive to say.
But along the way, I was blessed with young
And saw in seeds life is really sprung.
And with these seedlings came faith that promised me more,
And I learned the Word, which told me what I was created for.
And that is this:
Bury your love in every soul
Till life springs up and heartens the cold,
Because every seed must die
To bring more abundant life.
For eternity lies not in regeneration
But the seeds of love planted for procreation
Which die to themselves for each and every generation.