The things that really matter, stay hidden behind the chatter.
Too haughty to be revealed, preferring to stay concealed.
Majesty as mountains, playfulness as fountains.
Glorious selections, observed in reflections.
Beauty that couldn’t be higher, warmth from a camp fire.
Magic ambience all around, punctuated by not a sound.
Where elevated thought freely flows, a place that only the Infinite knows?
Roam around – be free, there’s even Magic in that tree.
What matters can be heard, maybe this time from a bird.
Answers aren’t scheduled from a clock, better luck looking under a rock.
Still can’t find it – that’s a shame, try looking for a better frame.