The leaves fall down from yesteryear,
from the aging tree; my soul.
These leaves are grey–
Not brown, nor gold,
and to touch,
they’re freezing cold.

They’ve travelled along;
through space and time,
To come lie gently at my feet.

Learning so much,
Breathing so boldly,
To just lie gently at my feet.

They weave no grand tale,
nor visions of yore;
but gives me light,
to see how old–
this body has become.

There is no way for me to say,
that these leaves will always be here to stay,
and maybe time is against my form,
or maybe my form, against it.

The only way I can conclude,
that meaning has been brought forth from the womb,
of the man and woman who brought me here,
Is when in the hearts of my fellow man it’s been made clear,
that love and joy were the only things,
that I’d fought for to be my remembering.

We all fear the meaning of ageing; what it means to grow older, and what it feels like to know that we won’t continue into a future that others are yet to see.
We all fear being lost in the ether; after our mortal bodies have come to perish.
We all fear falling out of relevance in the only world we’ve known.

But the world is made from what you give it.
And what I want to give mine is my love; for it is truly the only thing that can be felt, year after year, generation after generation, and is the only thing that the world truly lacks.
In a day and age where living life on the edge means cutting corners, and speeding emotions, one tends to overlook the necessity of love; or does so, until it’s too late.

Choose the legacy you want to leave behind, for although every aspect of you is not guaranteed to survive, the aura that you breed into the soil will continue your being, long after it has left this plane.
Be emotional, be unapologetic, and love widely; the world is sure to grow because of it.