The beauty of your existence
Is that of a book with blank pages
Waiting to be written by only your words

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a hymn sung by only your voice
Where everyone in the streets quietly admires your notes

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a blank mural waiting to be painted
And to presented amongst an exhibit labeled "Stories"

The beauty of your existence
Is that of a tale told around a campfire
As children scurry around the teller
To listen in on your adventures

The beauty of your existence
Is a compliment to another's
Adding hues that could otherwise make their existence dull

The beauty of your existence
Is that you simply exist.