Beauty

Beauty, is there another word
bringing such chaos and comfort?
Kingdoms have collapsed,
Wonders were built,
for just one glimpse of beauty—
yet what beauty is, remains undefined.

For some, it is white skin with cars,

For some, it’s kindness, even with scars.

Green, blue, brown eyes,

stars, moon, and the skies,

smiles, laughs, and everything fine—

but everything turns beautiful

when the heart whispers, “it’s mine.”

For when it is ours,

and the strings are tied heart to heart,

ehh, nothing matters if it’s white, brown, or black,

if it’s scars, smiles, or cries.

For who we love seems beautiful

in every way, every hour—

they look pretty beautiful

even when they’re sour.

The weights and measures lose all weight,

they appear divine even when they’re not that great.

Beauty counts,

but beauty refuses to be defined.

For what is copper for you

feels like gold to some.

You may cry, imposing your beauty standards,

but truth will someday come—

it will hug you

and bless you with its magic.

For connections are built slowly,

like a small plant growing leaf by leaf.

And beauty will flag in bold its lessons:

it’s the connection that’s gold,

never just the first impressions.