Poem of the cold and of tired thoughts.

Silk pours over me from the window.
Nature is beauty, mine.

An intrusion of the songbirds sunrise reverie.
Dizzy and precocious, of a tree top
A mirror of stagnation in only, such is,
Nature is beauty mine.

An appealing little piece

“Nature is beauty, mine.” - My thoughts exactly
“… such is the nature of thought.” - a mirror to itself, means i am the idea of myself.
Thoughts rule the world and one day, when circumstance is perceived as mere reflection (when thoughts tire?), they will rule themselves.

Write still.