Two Leaves by Zachary Phillips.
Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.
Yet even when apart,
They travel together,
Because all paths lead to the source.
All paths lead to the source.
Still,
Each journey may vary.
Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquility.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.
At times,
All leaves get stuck.
Blocked by debris.
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank,
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times,
The leaves must wait.
At these times the leaves must wait.
Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself.
They must wait for the slow push of time itself to gently alter the river's shape.
Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same.
The destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.
All life starts and ends at the same place.
People who once held such importance in our lives.
You know,
The best friends,
The family members,
The work acquaintances.
Life has a way of twisting and changing,
And pushing and pulling certain people closer,
And certain people away.
Sometimes we take the same path.
Yet other times the river splits us up.
We may come back into contact with these people,
And we may not.
But regardless of whether we're travelling alone or travelling apart,
We are travelling down this journey of life together,
To the source.
It's easy to look upon others with jealousy or resentment,
Or feelings of displeasure,
When they're in a state of tranquility.
When the sun is shining on the leaf of their life.
And when we are,
You know,
Pulled under by the current.
When we are facing rocks and getting smashed.
It's easy to lose sight of the fact that we are all travelling down this path together.
Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path.
Sometimes the river splits them up.
Yet even when apart,
They travel together,
Because all paths lead to the source.
All paths lead to the source.
Still,
Each journey may vary.
Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquility.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by the rain.
At times,
All leaves get stuck.
Blocked by debris,
Or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times,
The leaves must wait.
Wait for another to knock it free,
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself to gently alter the river's shape.
For the slow push of time itself to gently alter the river's shape.
Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten.
Because the destination is the same.
The destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.
At times,
We have a free flow of life.
But other times,
We must wait.
Wait for someone else to come along and help us.
And wait for our path to be cleared.
Wait for time itself to alleviate the blocks,
And to alleviate the pain.
At these times,
We must wait.
Because inevitably,
Eventually,
We will be able to flow again.
We will reconnect with the people from the past.
We will make new friends.
We'll find a new flow.
At times,
The river will take us down a fork that we never knew,
And never thought was going to come.
It was unforeseeable.
But no matter which path we take,
No matter how we get to the end,
We know that all paths lead to the source.
Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path.
Sometimes the river splits them up.
Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source.
All paths lead to the source.
Still,
Each journey may vary.
Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquility.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.
At times,
All leaves get stuck.
Blocked by debris?
Blocked by debris,
Or caught on a bank,
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times,
The leaves must wait.
At these times the leaves must wait.
Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself to gently alter the river's shape.
Then the leaves will float once more.
This interruption quickly forgotten.
This interruption quickly forgotten because the destination is the same.
The destination is the same,
No matter which path the leaf took.
