If I were to leave, just disappear
As swiftly as the Ocean breeze
Would the Stars still shine as bright?

If my presence was not felt, unseen,
A drifting scent that weaves into a mist
Would the voices of Nature still be heard?

If the prints I make were to be erased,
As the sand covers them without remorse
Would the birds continue to migrate?

If I were suspended, caught between two worlds
One full of color, sweet, kind, tender ever so gentle,
The other captivating, alluring but deep within shadows

If I were to fade like a white washed picketed fence,
When asked to collect the fruits of my task, what will I say?
Would the purpose of healing a soul serve as my only defense?