As the autumnal leaves dive to earth
crunching afoot, a golden valley of worth.
The commencement of death and renewal of life
the dark memories and bright, the mirth and strife;
a lone victim of fate, prey to the heavenly dice.
The quicksilver pebbles disturbed alone,
we are merely but a seed among a cohort of stones;
and through the verdant weeds a ray of light shone;
we renew the good deeds we own and for the bad do we atone.