Resurrection

As the minutes spin away And the hours flee, Like dust in the wind, And the days Descend into oblivion, Can it be That the only thing for certain Is the changing of the colors Of the leaves on the trees. And as they die and fall to the earth As they always do, There exists an emptiness Even though they reproduce. Each leaf was once alive, Each leaf had the will to survive Yet in some mystical way, Each leaf left this place And crumbled away. In return the earth mother Embraces their decay And forms food to fuel Another day, And if that is the secret of life, Who can't say That new life is born from decay.