It is not a steep edge so much as
it is sharp. The place here
and there must decide.
In one hand, the old leaf brittle and
precious, its purpose outgrown yet clinging
to a seed. The other hand opens wide.
It is time to let go. The leaf
body disintegrates as the
wind carries it away.
With it perish thoughts of
faults and limitations.
With it crumble excuses.
Full of intentions, the seed of a
magnificent future with
courage will take root.
Now, both hands are free
to climb, to plant, to hold on to
You will find it one day, that seed
sprouting, so green one weeps for joy as
the first true leaf is announced.
Life chooses again.