Two leaves falling from the high effulgent canopy of midsummer's crowning glory.
Caught up by the breeze, carried by the swirling current, dancing winds of change, opportunity, fire and air.
Destination unknown to them both, hidden, far below in the silent shadows, among whispered words and dark promise.
Two leaves upon solstice fair, pass beyond and away from the illusory comfort and shelter of this woodland height, to dance with the Devil in the glades below, to live and love with truth and honour, among those fallen, once lost rangers of the soul, choicest of companions upon this lonely road.
Far Far from this maddening crowd that grabs and grasps at hope and delusion, rubbing, swaying as one impossible creature, content in its discontent, this world where illusion wears the crown of kings and where there is safety in the flock.
Two leaves rise up and down upon the heady thermals of summer's glory, spinning, twisting, turning, flipping, this strange tide, this spiral dance, born of need and ever moving, closer now to the rivers of change, those stony shores where the dispossessed find solice among the paths of the wise.
Two leaves, held within the safe hands of one who would catch the fallen, one who would place them where it is they should need to rest.
Immersed in the shelter to which they belong, this strange brotherhood, this sublime collective, far beyond the hum drum, rustle and rattle of those who chose to remain "connected" to the hoard, far from the stinking piles of rotting mulch that decay upon this forest floor, those that allowed others to make the choices and forgone were their own, in finer favour of comfortable lies, deaf to the word and blind to the sight, this land of great terror and fearsome dread.
Two leaves that together did fall.
Two leaves that together stand side by side, back to back.
Two leaves that have fallen before.
Two leaves that found the place where they fit.
Imagine if you will, Two leaves that do journey together and were nearly home.
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