every leaf is a thought that falls
from the mouth, touching the ground
some yellow, some red with fire
they either mark the new path
or soil the old one; they can carry
different weight, although logically
they are all the same, made of
letters
and words; yet some fall heavy on
the heart
and can weight a person down,
some touch the heart gently
and they lift up the spirit, as if
they attached a balloon on it
it takes the same amount of time
and energy, but the intention
has different arrows and aims;
fear is a powerful tool,
it spreads like wild fire,
burning bridges; through the smoke
we stay blind to the truth,
as the war over power rages on
and you will never know
the amount of hearts in need of
mending
and what will it take to fix it all
