True

My thoughts on what I think to be the truth

Maybe true poetry is
The way the bird sings all its days,
Celebrating the life it's earned.
The way waves roll on the sand.
The way the wind whispers in the trees.

Maybe true beauty is
The way the sun yawns in the morning,
Greeting all who live under it.
The way the stars twinkle and wink.
The way the earth moves.

Maybe true love is
The way you look into my eyes
Like they contain all the peace in the world.
The way you shelter me.
The way you let me be me.

And maybe…
Maybe they're all the same.
Poetry is beauty is love.
Inexplicably connected at the root.

And maybe that is where happiness grows.