The falling leaves rush by. But I can't imagine the final threshold at the end of life, what lies beyond it. But I think every tree of life approaching it will have its last leaf fluttering at the last moment.
All life must be precipitated to have the thickness, the leaf fall is actually the interpretation of the complete life. The falling leaves are languid, just completing the precipitation of life.
The life of a person is like a long road that does not end. Some people have a prosperous life, beautiful life, but like a flower, in that golden season, hastily withered. Some people have been nurtured for a season, waiting for a season, finally like the fruit, like the lyrics of the beauty of maturity, but also inevitably some of the green, too early to fall into the dust and mud. And I am willing to fall like a leaf, ordinary life, with the remnants of life, dance out the beauty of the moving, with a hot heart, warm the next year's new green.
Leaves fall, does not mean that the death, but a new starting point, with the last life, nourishing the new green, and the life of the fallen leaves can be continued. The leaves fall, with the last life, decorate the world.