They are the only ones who surround me. I am the only one who enjoys their presence. Infinite amber leaves with vivid scarlet pigments and curious souls like mine. Infinite amber leaves who do not deserve to die but still do. Infinite broken children cast away from their parent trees. From the whistling wind, I can hear them, but nature just sleeps and pretends not to hear these things.

Their purpose is hidden. They shift and they shift some more and explore the air between their rustling stems and shoot towards the sky with curious eyes and never quit trying to make the most of their short existence. This is how they live.

If one fails to remember their purpose for living, they’d all fall like these leaves on a breezeless day, each collecting in one pile that keeps going for infinity. Live, live, live they say when I breathe. They give.

When I am too sad and too sorrowful to live living, when I am but a miniscule being against infinite people, then I look at the leaves. When there is nothing left to look at from this window. Infinite who explored despite isolation.

Infinite who live and do not forget to live. Infinite whose reason is to exist, and to exist together.