You could read poetry so many ways;
does it really mean an interpretation
so personal to our sense of limitations
or does it have a universal assignation?
And just as all trees have leaves,
most diverse in form indeed,
even on just one bough, no two the same;
each one designed to catch the light
and reaching ever upwards find what’s bright.
A myriad of possibilities,
all reaching out to one ultimate aim
in which they are united; all the same,
and pointing to their source
from which springs their course.
The aloneness of a single leaf
which through its inherent nature; brief,
reaches up above, absorbs that universal power
from which it alone is made a whole
and that from which it came below.
Ambiguous in its diversity,
and in being; the ultimate source of all ambiguity,
containing all meanings;
bringing certainty without negation of any possibilities,
the single poet in all, eternity.
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