“...Having emerged from myself, I am endlessly healing from Eternity...” The leaves are falling... They are spinning and spinning in their last heavenly dance, and the sun is shining. Its gentle, warm rays warm the earth, tired over the summer, the city lives its own life, where everyone has their own problems and troubles, and the burgundy Leaf wants to get lost in this bustle, dissolve in it, become like a small grain of sand - in the Sahara, so that to the end , to understand to the deepest essence who he really is in this world? What is his purpose on Earth? Freedom of life and flight gave him a lot, and, most importantly, to love his Loneliness. This is how it should be, this is how it should be. This is how it should be. So what is happening now, when you want to disappear into the bustle of the city? Why now does the burgundy Leaf, which was spinning and fell on the cold water of the autumn Stream, not feel the cold? Inevitability? The eternal law of Nature? Or Life? Who knows...... The Burgundy Leaf lives on its own, without explaining anything to anyone, without revealing its thoughts, without devoting its soul to the taiga secrets. He flew from the branch very, very slowly, circled his dance, and now he is at rest on the cold waters of the stream. He feels good alone. He understands a lot, feels and realizes, he sees the colors of the passing warmth, he is happy for others that someone is happy, because other leaves were carefully collected by people into bouquets, brought home and placed in vases. In those houses, love and peace live, just as people now fell in love with their bouquets of burgundy, yellow, and silver leaves. People love each other, they are happy together, and life is beautiful... It is beautiful. It was. And - will be. Burgundy Leaf - on the cold water of the stream... He was freed from Fear, while he was falling down, he is no longer Memories torment him, he does not think about the Past - his depths of Memory have long erased everything that happened to him in his life; he no longer has anything to regret, he long ago understood his essence and now cold, light waves wash his edges... He doesn’t feel the cold. He doesn't feel any regrets, he just let go of all his thoughts and emotions, and rests without a single movement. There is silence inside. Ti-shi-na. With a taste of sadness... Tomorrow - early frosts will strike. The leaf still will not feel the cold. He's not cold. What is he thinking about? I don’t know. What does he remember? Not to know... He becomes more and more silent and calm every moment, without asking anything from the Sun, or the Wind, or the Stream. Each of them lives his own life, just like Leaf - his own, he doesn’t have to explain anything to anyone. His body is calm and beautiful, the last rays of the sun make him even more beautiful and brighter, but dusk is already beginning to deepen... The sun is quietly setting behind the horizon , and the earth is enveloped in an autumn evening with a piercing wind, with bright stars in the sky, with the noise of leaves on tree branches, with the eternal calming bustle of life before bed.... The Burgundy Leaf quietly floated up to the Reed, clinging to her. No, not for that , to keep warm, and so that the waves of the Brook would not carry it too far away, because ahead there was night, the wind and it began to rain... The leaf held on to the Reed with the edge of a clove, just held on so that it would not be blown away by the wind, nothing more. He didn’t feel the cold, although the rain began to pour with more force, but he didn’t care. He simply fell asleep, without noticing that frost had struck in the middle of the night, and the water of the Brook was covered with an early crust of ice... And Leaf was sleeping. Quiet and peaceful. Quiet. Hidden... Freeze... The sun rose, waking up this sinful earth, touching the water of the Stream with its rays, trying to defrost the morning crust of ice, where the Leaf slept, as if in captivity. He was sleeping. He did not feel the warmth of the rays and the cold from the crust of ice, he simply fell silent with his whole being, no longer thinking about anything. There were no dreams, just small veins trembling with breathing, because he was alive. Just sleeping... The stream lived its own life, Reed also woke up, washed itself and talked quietly with the blades of grass and with the Wind, the world that we call Life woke up. The crust of ice slowly thawed, but even this could not.