light breaking over the horizon breathes of bounty,
a leaf falling whispers the last moments of promise.
to me, each thing in the day is what it is:
light breaking is light breaking,
a leaf falling is a leaf falling.
each day is as full as it can be,
whether full of symbols,
or full of things.
but does the day come more easily
when it chimes of promise and hints of despair
than when the filter of light is itself alone?
who can say whether sacred objects
bear more than their profane counterparts
in the clear sight of either or?
to me, a leaf falling is just a leaf falling
and a day is just a day
and the meaning is what I do