I am the leaf that falls, too
the wind that bears it, spiraling,
to the receptive ground, and I am
that which receives it.
I am the tree from which it falls, also
the space between its beginning and
its end: there when it was but a bloom,
and when its bloom has died, there as well.
Becoming, I am in worlds at once,
once and never still, and what is and what will
Becoming, I am.