Old Leaf

You are one old leaf.

How do you like it, to be hidden between

the pages of this book?

Are you free?

Is your soul still inside of you Oh dry friable wise leaf?

Do you like it in here, when you probably could've been

dirt by now?

Maybe you really do like it in here, so you chose to stay.

But tell me, do you feel safe in your abode, 

resting in-between the pages of a book?

Do you fear the nothingness when no one touches this book

for months, or years? Uhh, or are you uncomfortable that I-

flipping through the pages your abode, spotted you and picked you up

and observantly examined each and every line of your vein under the lamp,

squinting my left eye?

You must've been a wise leaf, cause you sure did leave your

impression on the right page.

So tell me something, will you?

Do you not know who you are?

Are you content?

Does the silence treat you well?

Would you rather be up on a tree- a bright green summer leaf-

or are you happy that you were destined to be conserved this way inside a book?

Though, you look enlightened to me,

I'll put you back where you were,

for you are an old leaf indeed.

I think you've been here way too long now.

I sniffed you. You and all the other pages in the book smell alike.

Thank you existing. 

~ Kripa Sarkar

PS: sometimes, it is what it is; it's plainly beautiful in the way it is.