Beautiful things

don't ask

for attention,



such is

the nature

of how

you are.



within the

darkest fabric

of your

minds night

lies the

rhythm and

reason

of who

and what

your dreams

will become..



the answer

to your

questions and

doubts,



and the banket of

uncertainty

that sometimes

you cover

your heart

and eyes.



all these

pieces are

you scattered

on the floor,



like so

many pieces

of a broken

window

that you

don't want

to look

through any

more.



and so I

sit here with

you,



and whisper

to the forest's

song.



between your

thoughts

and gentle

offerings.



wanting you

to know  

one thing,



how beautiful

you are.