The leaves fall without want.
Spending most of the year attached until they finally release their grip of the branches.
Trusting the wind to carry them.
Fall where they may.
Crumbling beneath the feet of children, becoming earth. Becoming a tree. Becoming a leaf.
The river flows without want.
Encased in the banks of rocks and sand.
Trusting the force of the current.
Flowing here and there.
Joining other waters, becoming a waterfall, becoming a stream, becoming a river.
I live without want.
I love. I let go.
Trusting my path to unfold.
I am the tree. I am the falling of the leaf.
I am the river. I am the force of the current.
I am love. I am trust.
I am the path.