Beauty
Sometimes I wonder
if, when sadness leaves its mark upon
those certain Souls we see,
it’s not they who are Broken or cracked
like remnant clay from distant times, but
the world Itself.
It’s indifference and
Jealousy Gives way to a truth, hidden
and lost By misunderstanding.
Whether with intention Or not.
That the world Itself, taken by the
Beatific resonant stirrings of the elevated
Brave.
It was He, not they, who caused the
Separation and stemmed the belonging
So sought by those whose hearts are
In need of home.
It was He, not they, not you, friend. Who caused the partition.
May your beauty Shine. May it Rage and Uproot. For you are one worthy of
worlds to be built — to rebuild or replace the slow, cold orbit that He makes
Around a sun and, finally, to set, and dawn once more —
To blossom and unfold —
And to sing —
To sing —
Of you.
