A poem about beauty.

Existing in beauty, without expectations.

Not wanting to be seen, but impossible to go unnoticed.

Effortlessly present, in balance, when the wind shuffles your steady stand.

Alive, blooming, changing, never the same.

Embracing that everything ends when it begins existing.

Existing in beauty, without an audience.

As part of a larger work of art.


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Remember when you were a kid?