How beautiful you are.

How beautiful you are,
but to what end?
Do you eyes glimmer to catch the peers of captains,
giving them safe passage to a quiet harbour
where they might weather some storm?
Or do they gleam so as to stay in the thoughts of yet departed sailors,
so they might take the smallest part of you with them
to ease their homesick hearts?

Does your voice soothe worries
in hopes of providing peace of mind
so that one may sleep a dreamless sleep
free of demons and confusion
to awaken with a new day, rested and hopeful?
Or does it iron out anxiety
allowing for an unadulterated experience of the moments after,
however brief, 
when no stresses haunt their thoughts?

Does your hair,
when framing your face,
delicately,
as a willow might shade itself,
ask for the hands of some lover
to sweep up your cheek,
caress your neck,
and let the willow feel the warmth of the sun?
Or does it,
when framing your face,
absolutely, 
as boulders might a waterfall,
beg only for some distant appreciation,
for slack-jawed awe and admiration
from any would-be mountaineer
who might claim fortune enough to have laid eyes upon your nature?

Do you,
call to action
or attention?
Do you find yourself on a map,
a destination, 
or in wallets and lockets,
an inspiration?

Or do you ask for nothing
as you are not a question
but an answer?