In Which, Leaves Turn Grey

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“The Dark never enters, but it also never leaves”

The leaves meditated

Beneath the purple sky

Above the yellow fiery sea

They had fallen from the tree,

After living for hundred score years and three

Now, what did they see

Birds in a sequence and ships in a fleet

The leaves meditated

What did they feel?

Has Spring gone already? Has Autumn come?

They moved with the soft waves

And what did they hear?

Was it the sound of rain!

They meditated…

They had fallen from a tree

After living for hundred score years and three

Now they were ashore

They meditated for long

Then they turned grey.

“The Dark never enters, but it also never leaves”

Questions.

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You ever felt this way before? Had you ever so many questions to ask?

Questions about life. Questions about faith?

Questions about God. Questions about death?

There is confusion.

Questions.

There is destruction.

Questions.

Denial.

Questions.

Rotten with fear. Burning in anguish.

Mere contemplation.

Hesitation.

What is a question without a definition?

Till death do apart–is it a question or mere interpretation!

They die, so some go to heaven and others to hell.

Is it a fact or is it a question.

What is that force called, which changes the season?

If i say God, is it an answer or a question for a question?

Where does the tree come from.

Are we humans? But that is a joke.

Questions.

Why? What? How? Why?