Dead leaves: Angel, what will happen to us now that we’re here, gradually decaying, losing our colors, prey to fish and worms?

Angel: don’t worry, you are just losing a form to get another.

Dead leaves: but we liked our form, we liked to swing on the top of branches in the wind, to see the world go by, to listen to the birds singing.

Angel: have you already forgotten the rain, the hail, the hot summers? How many times did you complain? You wanted to go elsewhere, to live in another tree, not on the same branch, closer to the trunk.

Dead leaves: oh, it was just idle talks, we didn’t really mean it.

Angel: you didn’t enjoy life and what you had as much as you could have.  Now you regret it, but it’s too late to change what happened.

Dead leaves: are we punished? Could we have lived longer?

Angel: don’t be stupid! You know that no green leaf overwinter here. Your death was programmed, whatever you did, but your life was up to you. If you had lived well, you’d die well too.

Dead leaves: if we had lived well, don’t you think we would be sad to leave?

Angel: no, not at all. Living well is to accept death, and make the life you have the best possible.

Dead leaves: so are we punished for not having lived well?

Angel: no, you are not listening! You were to die anyway. This is not a punishment, it’s an inescapable fact. However, as you knew you’d die one day, the way you reacted to it was your choice. You should have always asked yourselves if your actions were the ones you wanted to do. That way, you would never have regretted them.

Dead leaves: so, we are victims of our actions?

Angel: of your non-actions, I’d say. You are victims of never have dared to take the decisions that suited you the best, the ones that would have made you happy.

Dead leaves: but we could not choose.

Angel: of course you could. Hiding behind such an excuse is still a way to deny reality. If you had accepted it, and tried to see how to best deal with what you had, or tried to change what you did not like, you’d have no regrets. Your destiny is always in your hands.

Dead leaves: it’s too late now…

Angel: it is never too late when future is concerned. Agree to change form, and you’ll begin to understand what I mean.

Dead leaves: but it’s cold and damp here, it’s not funny.

Angel: I think I’ll fly away, and leave you to your complaints. I cannot change you, I can just advise you. Think about what I told you, and see what you want to do with it.

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