timeless protograph

Beauty is an essence that many are blind to,
It is that glowing light that dances about the room
It is the shadow mirrored in the eyes of so few
Held in the twinkling of broken glass in the sunset.

Beauty can be caressed in a perfect equation,
But also on the offbeat note of an old piano.
Beauty can be found smiling in true laughter,
But also in the quiet singing of lonely tears.

If Beauty had a concrete form
Humanity would embrace it for eternity,
Our souls feed on its every movement
We remain in awe at its every chant.

Beauty is that incredible and lovely touch
Which we perceive when we feel the wind
Gently caressing and tangling our hair.
It’s that voice that we cannot quite distinguish
But that sings to us, guiding our minds.

Beauty is the mystery which keeps us dreaming,
With its silent footsteps it twirls through our lives
But we barely ever catch it, in its melodic glides.
We are often blind to the multitude of colors
That rest on the wooden remains of a broken swing
Or on the farthest corner of a forgotten park.

Beauty is a golden feather, or a nighttime sky
Fragile but precious, overwhelming but shy.