The leaf was once green. It grew in the sunlight. It lived upon the branch. It received the rain. It completed its season. Then one day, the wind arrived, and the leaf released its hold. Keep what was once beautiful. Keep the ones we have loved. Keep the seasons that have passed. A thousand leaves may fall, and still the autumn wind can carry a compassionate heart. A wound may remain in the rows of bare trees, a quiet reminder of everything we were not ready to lose. Yet sometimes, one act of letting go becomes an opening into freedom. The leaf must leave the branch. Not because it was unloved, but because its season was complete. To love is to give. To give is to let go. And letting go is not always an ending. Sometimes, it is the doorway through which freedom enters. And when freedom enters, new life begins. The branch remains. The tree remains. The roots remain. And beneath the silence of winter, something unseen is already preparing to become green again.
