The leaf fell from the tree, no longer aware of it's own actions. The sturdy old oak knew that it was one part closer to nakedness. The grass knew it was no longer within reach of the sun's radiant energy. Neither would wonder how the leaf felt in all of this, neither would care. The oak would mourn it's loss of one of a million sun-gathering limbs. Whereas each blade of grass would mourn the loss of it's own life - that is, until nature runs its course, and the leaf is blown away. In all of this no one thinks of the leaf's loss, which is the greatest of all. It's fall from greatness means a loss of it's own life. Yet, the one to give the leaf the least amount of thought is the leaf itself, no longer capable of such an action.
The wind doesn't care much either.
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