The cloak of darkness washes out the color, So the browns and greens and grays can blend together, Dull the gleam and vibrancy, Shapes are now all that remain, Silhouettes of the features of this forest. A fractured perception of life, A pretense believed I'd rather be withheld, For despite lacking a central palette, Perfection still lies in wait of the next light, The next rise of the Chariot of Apollo.
You don't need to know everything. Sometimes we lose ourselves in the details, and we forget that they oft are not what cause us to fall in love.