It's a story about a leaf. It was born on a tree that hung over a small stream. The leaf grew in spring but it was only in summer did it realise that it was life. It admired the world around it as it gently played with the sun and the breeze, then one day it realised that down below the safety of the tree a steady stream flowed. The more it watched the stream the more jealous it became because the stream travelled far beyond what the leaf could see. However, as with jealousy, there came a moment when the leaf realised that it was better than the stream because it was alive and anchored and stable. It got to play whilst the stream could only travel and never return home. The stream had no home and no family. Then one day the leaf noticed itself begin to change its colours. It was more beautiful now. More glorious than the transparent stream. The leaf was satisfied that it had reached its full potential to be magnificent and beautiful. It fluttered proudly. Then one cold morning the wind began to blow aggressively. The leaf had no time to preen because it had to struggle to stay attached to its home. Days passed and still it achieved it's goal but as the days passed the leaf began to realise that it had become old. Sadden with this revelation the leaf stopped fighting the wind and fell to its death. But dead it was not for the stream had caught it. How dare that stream try to keep it from its closure! The stream had always been jealous of the leaf and now it would take its revenge, or so the leaf thought. The flow of the stream was sometimes rough and sometimes calm but it never ended. Along the way the leaf began to lose some parts of itself but eventually it found that the stream became bigger. Bigger and bigger it had no end. It was too massive to ever be jealous of a leaf. Alive it was not, but life it held. When the leaf let go of its pride and submitted to the flow of life - it finally was no more, but part of much more.
By Amrisha Ramlakhan
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