Fallen Leaves

Fiery leaves drift gently down,
Buffeted by the breeze,
A flurry of both red and brown,
Floating beneath the trees.

A spiral here, a quick twist there,
But otherwise mundane,
Cascading down an unseen stair,
Toward the earth like rain.

Yet in a blink the leaf is gone,
Settling on damp earth,
Evening almost before dawn,
Death even before birth.

In the eyes of an old, aged tree,
Each leaf falls in a blur,
Like grains of sand in a vast sea,
The sea they fail to stir.

From birth to death the lives of men,
Mean little to the flow,
Of the thick ink from the great pen,
Of Time that writes all woe.

Every leaf is another life,
Of yet another soul,
That from birth will descend through strife,
To death, without control.