Sunday, 7 February 2010

beneath it all

The leaves will rust. And they will fall.
They will crumble. And they will die.
They will become part of the earth that bore them.
Just as you and me.
There's a pattern to this madness, if we just could take a look.
There's a circle at the centre. And a meaning to the end.
We just haven't got there yet.

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