Fairy

Singing softly,
I watch you prance.
I watch you fall, then rise
and dance.
With lights surrounding,
bending ground
around a surface
not yet found,
a little something-
kind and grace?
A little nothing...
yet out of place.
A little you that still exists
beneath the mountains,
forests, mists,
and still belies
and still becomes
a pure-not, lovely, little prize.
A someone perfect and profound
and beautiful as light and sound
and yet you're ugly and uncouth
for human-not,
you're soul lacks truth.