What Is Beautiful

For my insides begin to despise it,

They revolt at anything plain,

The thing that does not challenge the chosen,

That agrees with the mind of the hopeless.

My insides have resolved to reject,

That thing they call beautiful,

The plastic of its texture, the

Shallow of its nature.

Beautiful is the rare stone,

The crooked tooth in the entire row,

Look closely, at its unique carving,

The artwork of the master artist.

Beautiful is the secluded home,

The dusty road that leads you there,

See the wild flowers that grow freely on its side,

See the many insects that choke on the dust,

It was all so well prepared, to give you pleasure

As you ride.

Beautiful is the thing of God,

You cannot deny it, cannot classify it,

Love it and its beauty will warm to your eyes,

Because in all things, there beauty lies.