My Poem-the End

THE END it is thy who created winter where leaves falling down, where the mother nature stay calm. it is the stage of meditation, as a priest-trees remain. when the yellow pine leavesslides down, to the marshy road, where the footprints lie. we know the light of dream rising from those, whoturned this world into a heaven they fell down as a leaf, but not in the senescence, termed assassination. I can hear the murmur of leaves, which left behind for next winter. they are waiting for theirchance to come,after their duty made. not very impatient, and not weired, also not worried as the last creation of god. they are waiting, and waiting till their end, serving the world , serving the nature, as the lungs of nature producing energy worldwide. the leaves are like, the great persons served the world. they sacrificed themselves for the sake, not for them but for us. there is a rhythm ,and there is a relation, between the leaves and the tree. it is not love, it is not kind,

it differs from the ideas that men defined, but only the tree trunk remains at the end, waiting for new saplings to evolve then the new relation begins. the tree gives leaf its essence, and the leaf gives it back, not as essence but as life until their death. it is cooperation, and it is the force which holds them together. it is the nature's law that nothing is immortal.. they don't have the elixir of life, but they are always active praying for the next generation. But there remains some, where leaves will not wither, not as parasites in their solemn world, they are evergreen, but they are also have an end. it is delightful to the eyes, where colored leaves falling down, but not to the tree , but they knew they also have an end.