The death of what I thought was true
The death of all I cling to
Had considered without thought
Had accepted without soul’s hearing
These, as leaf scar is the place of bud
Have allowed in their departure
The new to be released
To grow
Form
Flourish
The day may come when now must fall
Lived out
Weary
To make space, and opportunity for new
This parable, surely lived by earth
That death is life and life is death
That new is birthed in its time
That freedom cannot be static or remain unchanged.