I want you to know, I thank you for holding me.
I want you to know that I WILL return that comfort without failure, and with the heart's beating lullaby.
I want you to know that you are not the Sun in the sky, or the Moon betwixt tree and field,
Rather you are a shimmer of the moon's beam that I appreciate,
acknowledging it's light as well as its darkness.
I want you to know that what you do doesn't go unseen,
The sacrifices you have made, and will make, I record in my heart.
I want you to know that I see you -- both in happiness, and in the fear of not balancing all who surround you.
I want you to know that you are noticed, not for what you may do for me, but simply for your raw, unedited self, . . . the woman who just is.
I want you to know that I know the way your spirit has bent under the pressure of expectations, and I know the times that you've broken down, alone.
I want you to know that despite whatever you may feel of yourself, I look at you with pride, and see why you love the owl for its noble grace, its sight, and path through moonlit skies, when the vision of others, fails.
I want you to know that you're not only one thing to be, but many facets of a precious gem.
Perhaps not the most flashing or reflective, but more rare and beautiful than a treasure of old.
I want you to know that my empathy always flows to you, I see your tiredness when you may think no one does, and the smile to yourself that brightens your eyes.
I want you to know that you're brilliant over and over, in the quietest of ways.
I want you to know that you're understood, even if words are not agreed upon.
I want you to know that you don't have to do a thing to keep what I feel, how I care, or be seen, here.
I want you to know that no matter how time ebbs, or how much the waters of age bend our bodies, you'll find me smiling, still telling you with all sincerity that you're beautiful.
I want you to know that you are known.
I want you to know that whatever you do, are, or become, is safe, here.
These musings are not written in strife, or some ill-begotten blindness of twinkling lights which burn bright for a moment, then fall asleep.
They are pure of heart and mind and soul.
For you are already everything you hope to be,
Even if those flowers are yet to bloom, the seeds are there, planted long ago.
Yet still, because I love your heart and all you are, I just want you to know.
-G.
🐒 ©2015 Melissa Alexander, Gypsy, The Gypsy Shadow http://thegypsyshadow.blogspot.com/2015/11/song-for-nightbird-i-want-you-to-know-i.html