Folds of Eternity

A dry leaf, a fragile veil,
rests upon the earth, a shield of rust and gold.
It softly whispers beneath the boundless sky,
the silent song of what it holds inside.
In subtle creases, a faint breath lingers,
of etched-in time, a sorrow softly sings.
Each vein a memory, an ancient chain,
where the wind has told its mystic reign.
It is not only oblivion, for life preserved,
an echo of the sun and morning dew.
The ancient tremor, sealed deep inside,
of emerald sap, a story longed to confide.
Thus the passing breath of time is shown,
within these creases, in its fragile core.
The timeless wisdom that the world unveils
every ending is a start, forever bright and whole.