A River Runs Through It Poem by Ms. Queenie

there are some things better left unheard,
as sometimes love is more when not being said,
but being seen.
eyes do not lie,
but lips and ears can burn,
just as hearts seem to do in turn.
it's not so much your looking
as it is your soul-seeing,
for the windows to the soul let only light
to the deepest darkest parts
and shut every other thing out with thinly-veined curtains.
but if darkness draws the light,
let darkness in
for curtains have a mind of their own,
and sometimes seem to separate of their own accord.
loving light is soft and gray,
it bends through sheets of cotton
like rivers through rocks and sand.
eroding slowly over time,
it softens and molds the shadows.
shining light loves to play on the surface of the water,
and often as friends they will switch,
so the sky almost seems wet,
and the stream shines like it is light,
for one could not live without the other,
as the terms seem almost inseparable.
so, like water, light flows into darkness.
(for without darkness there would be no light)
it filters in through the cracks and gradually eases,
what once was an unseemly mass of black night.
the scornful ebony that is so vulnerable
in the way it seems to take its greatest pride.
the walls around darkness destroy it,
for it keeps everyone out,
but darkness can only sustain itself for so long.
(for without light there would be no darkness)
cracks in the curtains reveal
a flowing mass of light that once ran through,
a frivol river it once knew,
dry paths, overgrown with weeds
can be cleared away again,
and footsteps may trod on the place if they wish.
a winding trail of rocks reaches out far into the twilight
and you may find
a river runs through it
once again.