Without the I

Maybe, have been a leaf fallen from the tree,
Some kind of life, without conscience,
Some times still, some times constantly moving,
Without words to scribe,
Without light to move on,
Maybe, have been a thought without act,
Paths making steps for going back,
And life began,
Yet again and again,
For another desperate try,
Finding worlds and ways among stars,
Not so suddenly then, to remember where to go,
As light feet touched the ground,
Beautiful minds and bodies so sound,
Dancing to the joys of nature,
Countless were lovers,
Infinite were worshipers,
'til freedom came to have no meaning,