Nature

This isn't so much a poem as it is an extended thought, but I guess that sort of is a feature of my poetry anyway

The only thing that ever comes close to realize

The beauty of Nature

Is a photograph

But is that some sort of error, a mistake that we, as humans must fix?

Is it an error?

If it is, does the fault that lie within the paintbrush?

Or maybe the canvas?

The eye?

Or is it maybe that Nature, should only be experienced in real life, through you own eyes?

Could we ever truly depict the beauty of Nature?

or is it not meant to be?

I will never know