A Tree at Twilight

The roots hold firm
As the ice of a setting sun settles upon branches
That have reached in prayer for ages past
Answered by a silent sky

Not immune to time’s influence
A leaf withers and drifts
With noble grace
To its rest

So must we all

Facing such loss
Day after day
The tree still stands steadfast
Facing down the inevitable darkness

Would it that we were all so lucky as the tree
To have such wisdom to know
That a lost leaf is not an ending
But the herald of a new sun on the horizon

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