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.

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