A ghost in plain sight, the old leaves cling to the top of the tree, refusing to let go. I would have thought they missed their old glory, but it seems to me that they delight in their bleakness. All around them, a wide berth is given, as if the living leaves fear them, and well they should. Life continues carefully in a walled path around the old leaves, pretending not to notice death.
 |
| Yet another ghost found wandering . . . |
There they stand, silently challenging, knowing not one
creature would willingly rise to the challenge.
And yet, each one in its own time will do exactly that. The wind will change direction one day, and
the call will be issued. It is a call
that none of us may avoid. Stand and
report! What have you done with your
life?
The dead is displayed in a macabre scene deep in the
woods. Or in the graffiti on the subways
of the city. Or as a mummy in ancient Egypt. They are a reminder that this present
existence is a dress rehearsal, and we have all forgotten our lines. The Great Alchemist is the Director who hires
and fires at will. The priests are the
costume designers whose job it is to make it all seem real. And you and I are not in the audience but on
the stage, caught in the act of spontaneous life once again.
