I like to imagine what lies beyond the frame of a painting
The art that it's a piece of

The thoughts things were created from
(The feathers of a dove)

The process between an idea 
And a final product...
Though I wish we could share all our inspirations 
Maybe some things should stay private 

Even the most beautiful thoughts
Sometimes really ought not 
To be exposed as they are to the world 
Some potentials simply stay furled 

But it's okay if they stay that way 
At least you knew them, so appreciate

That certain love can't be shared 
(Though there are loves that exist to dare)
And the quiet loves that you keep to yourself 
Are worth just as much as anything else 

Don't worry that you didn't create
Every idea that knocked at the gate
Their intention was never to be a guilt
So plant new flowers 
Let some wilt