We can’t speak of beauty without knowing ugliness. We can’t speak of virtue without knowing vice. We can’t speak of life without knowing death. We can't achieve without knowing failure. We can't find silence without knowing noise. From The Tao Te Ching, Chapter 2
The colors of the autumn leaves,
a friend recently informed me,
have been there all along.
They’ve been waiting for the leaf
to loose the tightness of its grip
upon the tree, for the chlorophyl
to ease its constant effort to produce.
When that happens, they shine through at last.
I understand, I think.
I am healthy and happy, but no longer grip
my life as once I did.
Production isn’t a priority any more.
I think the beauty may be showing through,
no longer hidden by my ceaseless efforts.