Communion

You're there... amongst all others. Invisible, yet so fragrant that I can hardly perceive anything else beside you. That's who you are. It is precisely the way you were created. Nonetheless, that is how you act. You move like a smooth wind that would never violate any already set order. (Unfortunately). Indeed, your touch is so soft that one needs to hold you tightly in order to feel you at least a little. The touch of your visitation resembles the fine linen. You seem so fragile that my fears and phobias prevent me from following after you, when you silently depart. Yet the mark, which you left went far deeper than anyone would expect such a gentle breeze to ever reach. You rushed through my veins, shook my heart in its foundations, carried on... and carried away. Now I perceive how you kindly cause the leaves to move there and back, making your presence known to them, knowing they won't seek you. What a wretched life it must be to experience your perfection, while not being able to respond... to follow you, to express the gratitude by repaying all the good that you've given. What a wretched creature I am! Possessing the ability, though being bound by myself, I never even reach the level of this poor leaf. I wish I could be the disabled and wretched leaf that cannot say no to anything, for there is no such a thing in its life. There is only green, yellow, or red... and then... there is nothing else to worry about. The day will worry (about) itself.