Indefinite

I pour out hope from deep within,
Fighting hard to believe,
That my words sent up from bended knees,
Aren't lost upon the breeze.
Waiting, all I hear return,
Is the rustle of the trees.

If I cannot hear perhaps I can see?
I attempt to define Your path for me,
Yet all I find are leaves.
They turn from green to red,
From red to brown,
And then fall down.
Their beauty now their past,
They cover the ground,
So that the path I find is as defined,
As a ripple in the sea.

But, wait!...

What's this I feel passing over me?

With my mind affixed I might believe,
But without proof I can't concede,
To believe the passing breeze to be,
Something of Divinity.