On the Edge

I try to laugh, struggle for the meaning
Beloved trees taunt me dropping their leaves
Their time done, the turn, circle complete
Lost, I sit quietly, bleeding in pain

Death comes so easily for them
With envy I sit watching each fall
My autumn in the past, yet I remain
Their leaves never to stay, never to feel this empty

I sit and wish I were one of them
Tired and weak, falling, floating, letting go
No regrets, simply to no longer stand the winds
Universal understanding that I make room for the new

The essence that was my life melting back into the soil
Final accomplishment in feeding the new lives yet to come
Falling in the silence, long earned peaceful rest
Knowing my small part in the continuance

This the curse of human existence
Nothing simple, complications and duty
I stare at the forest in shame with wrothful heart
Knowing their death far more noble, open self sacrifice
While here I sit in my self-centered depression

Can I manage to peel my mind off the forest floor?
Amidst all these martyred leaves I want desperately to be
Can I but be a part of the life gift, to rest and return?
I reach within, in search for wisdom, for guidance
And with reluctance the answer now clear

I cannot leave with so much yet undone…

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre October 28th, 2008
revised November 28th, 2008

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