A leaf is just a leaf - green, yes. Full of the life of the sun and the earth, yes. But when the light shines, like a promise, through its living, breathing substance ... it becomes so much more. A translucent little ligh titself, it glows from wtihin, lit by the rays of the sun that called it forth in the first place. It is twice, and magically, alive: Once through the natural, responsive process of growth; and again by the supernatural experience of illumination. Now it is truly a wonder, being not just itself any more, but a startling and vital testament to somethign brighter, greater, more true than any one leaf could be. It has become a small, green flame - not to be mocked for its smallness but to be noticed, rather, for the piercing way that it calls others to a longing, a yearning they cannot describe - not to be the leaf, nor to be inside it, either - but to get at, by all means, the magnetic Presence behind the leaf. To discover the thing that has lit it so fully, and to be equally illuminated by its transforming, consuming, consumating fire.
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