My Way
I have seen a handful of sunrises,Blanketed by an eternity of sunsets.
Never careing to notice thier true beauty.
It does not lay within the heart of an amber sun.
Or in its reflections in the crimson waters.
When the sweet smell of knewly fallen snow intwines within
Moonbeams and misbegotten twighlight, Still its true beauty
remains but a silent whisper.
Deeper within must you search to see the aura that so modestly
Surrounds the horizon.
Mental Notes
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