The Wooded Path

Falling beneath my feet,
Drop the leaves of Autumn trees.
Cold winds knowing when to leap,
My soul is what they free.

To travel among the fallen,
In order to find verity,
To sing of all that happens,
And understand all with clarity.

These are the things that bind us all,
In our search through life,
Though we control who doesn’t fall,
None are void of sacrifice.

-Eric Brotherton