Autumn

Inside each of us there’s a continual autumn.
Our leaves fall and are blown out over the water,
a crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks about what’s gone.
There’s a necessary dying, and then we are reborn breathing again.

Very little grows on jagged rock.
Be ground.
Be crumbled
so wildflowers will come up where you are.

– Jalal Al-din Muhammad Rumi