There is beauty in the night, but only
For the specks of light that pierce the darkness.
Stars redeem, a silver sheen, to show me
Subtleties in new light, without starkness.
There is beauty in winter, but only
For the warmth that remains to enliven.
If the frozen frost wins out utterly
Ice’s art has no one to survive in.
Oblivion’s comforts are false and faux
Saying that crash is the only release.
But now is not pleasant for having no
Strife, but for the presence of restful peace.
There is beauty in the silence, only
Because in stillness I may better hear.