There’s a quiet ease as the river finds it’s way across your rocks
A quiet strength as the hills conserve what you leave behind
A quiet contemplation as the sky blankets you with stars
The quietness of the forest as you invade it’s habitat.

For what is the river.. without the obstacles you put in it’s path
For what are the hills.. without the trees that you plant
For what is the sky.. without the ground you walk on
For what is the forest.. without you to ravage it’s heart.

There’s a quiet undoing in the way snow falls
A quiet melancholy in the impressions of raindrops
A quiet whisper as the wind decides to whisk past
The quietude of the sun casting shadows all across.

For what is snow.. but the healing of friction between hearts
For what is rain.. but overwhelming love unconfined by a heart
For what is the wind.. but the meeting of different hearts
For what is sunlight.. but warmth illuminating the gold of a heart.

If people spectacle the world rose colored… my panorama may be a sky blue,
The wonders of the rose short lived… my world’s expanse unbound to the view.
Through the stillness it impresses… amongst limitless offering and serene remains,
I retreat into it’s haunting beauty… it teaches me love can be tranquil ruin.

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