Down the road of the land of the baked beans,
we find this fruit wing of an Amazonian tree.
In autumn, when she turns dry and brown,
she unfastens from her mother tree and plunges down,
dwindling she begins to whirl in pain,
screaming in fear and agony but one cant hear any sound.
The winds are here to fortify that this suffering remain,
she twists, she turns, she whirls and shes headed for the ground.
With one last breath she takes one last spin,
and lands unbroken as she had always been.
Before she catches enough air to realize what a fall she had endured,
a curious soul picks her up and tosses her into the air and her misery is ensured.
Again she twists , she turns , she whirls yet unbroken she lands.
Away from family, unspoken, confused in different sands.
She endures a hundred such journeys from here.
In the brevity of its flight, here is the beauty of her plight.
Despite the solitude ,she maintains her fortitude.
She carries without letting it out that in her she carries another soul.
A seed.
A seed that will give rise to forest.
With their canopy, the trees in the forests will not only live for themselves,
they will provide for, protect and shelter many more.
tiny beings, super beings, all beings.
Her fall was only a rise, upside down.