Was It?

I was looking at this beautiful leaf on a tree across the park yesterday, it was dreadfully pink

And the sky, it’s thunder was built layers upon layers,

It’s depth and darkness gave that leaf the appearance of a glow 

It was all so strikingly beautiful,

it was a gift

But what had I to give it back? My hands were empty and voice hollow

Here I was walking in nature and indulging in the beauty it offered, always offered me, at no cost 

But there was a cost.  

A cost matched only from beauty spoken through whispers of nature

Thus with every walk, nature makes up for that beautiful pain it inflicts on me

A pain that if absent, would need no beauty of leaves nor phenomena of landscape

A discomfort that if absent, in the true wrath of comfort, could never witness that beauty in the level the suffering soul must.