Beauty

Vision, with all the senses,
can easily cast beauty.

Crossing, a line in the sand.
Senses stir, a provocative plan.

A single moment in time
Eyes, to see the beauty.

Beautiful.

Danger, a warning,
even so, no heeding,
Too powerful and alluring,
Keep going, proceeding.

Other senses, to be sure.
Determined.
Justified.

Touch, to feel.
Worthy. Real.
Beautified.

Taste it…
a bite of a bright red juicy apple,
lick a snow covered mitten,
kiss a waiting mouth.

Senses come alive and smell,
completely over the edge,
buried in beauty.

O that scent,
a memory burst from the seams
in a complicated and compressed mind.

A melody can play.
A singer will sing.
A lover may whisper
………..sweet nothings.

When the ear hears,
the tongue tastes,
the fingers touch,
and awake, that silky memory.

The eyes create their own memory,
beauty is breathed in.

It is beauty.
What beautiful feelings it transcribes.
Beauty truly is in the eye, of the beholder.
Some say, love is blind.

What is love blinding us from?
Blinding the heart from what is true?
Is it blinding eyes from what might be?
Is she only blinded, by you?

We see what we want to see,
in many things.
So easy to tread, with no doubts,
simply know, the ins and outs.

That’s a very blinding notion to take.
“Be careful”,  she foretold.
There is Beauty and there is Fake.

And to those, thrown aside,
bid farewell and goodbye.
The limits know no bounds
of what they are bound…

For what was a slumber
Beauty has taken under
to drown and suffocates
Forcing an abdicate…

O the choices that one makes

for beauty.

 

 

 

 

 

Photos used with this poem are by @krivitskiy and @ksharkcookie