it seems in reverie that our various human lives are like leaves swirling in the chill breeze of fall. they are sublimely brilliant, poignant & pure, swiftly gone, whirling on, flying into pieces in the wind. each life is different, yet they are also alike in many ways. they are nuanced with deeply meaningful patterns, tender, touching & precious. heroic stories are played out in swiftly gliding glimpses that grip & sweep the viewer far inside to the heart of mystery. & then they are gone: all the human lives, like the swirling leaves, flying into pieces in the fingers of the wind within the witnessing sky. ah, Shiva, You tell me to look beyond the transient to that which remains continuously present as source essence. You are formless & vast, & i am a focal point of You, extended into form. let the leaves & lives fly by: i will return with them to formlessness.