The Poetry of Falling Leaves.
(c) Daniel Raby

Love is a blindness which gone wild walks into walls of imperfection, these walls are seamless as the sky, and though we climb, these walls go higher than the object of our love.

They are the cradle of our hearts desire, these walls of imperfection, and with all the power of our innocence we rise ever upward towards our ideal, however perfect it may be.

Who among us hasn’t suffered with a vision cast out into the unknown, and seen that vision shine from above, bright as any sun, unattainable yet clearly showing the way.

Who among us has not been led astray, and aspired to escape the earth, and leave the entire world behind, even to forget ourselves and who we really are.

For this dream of perfect love, we flicker out and fall, first to sit in the sun, then to go down, down, and down into the shadow of our hearts.
 
What sadness it is to linger on, when no creature in the world will cry for you.

Weep world! Weep! And set my soul free.

Down to the roots of the earth I return, to linger upon the silence of a tree.