Hands on Fire, why can I not heal myself?
Nature seems at odds with this Autumn. Knowing
most will die in the bitter ice and will not see a warm day again.
The fluorescent orange of the sugar maple
shows Heavenly colors. I smile at it's grace.
Does the tree know it's true beauty hides all summer?
Only to experience the green fade when sunlight fades.
What does Heaven hold for me? Am I to show my
True Being only to find dormancy quickly ensue?
Is that my Enlightenment under the Bodhi tree?
Only to hide myself until that colorful moment, I
await the time of the end of my suffering.
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