Beauty, is not in a million bright halogen bulbs
But the same old sunsets and sunrises...
It's not in the velvet touch of the Italian marble
But in that cold stone where one sits exhausted..
Pearls, gold, diamonds, no, they don't have it
Like the twinkling stars illuminating the sky
And the incandescent light of the full moon.
That bottle of expensive fragrance isn't beautiful.
Beauty lies in the petrichor of the first shower
It's not in a five star hotel suite amidst champagne
But in a bowl of soup placed on an wooden table,
Relished with the beloved while the crickets sing afar
Beauty doesn't lie in what's apparent, what's elusive
But in the comfort of a warm, protective familiarity
For it helps to take off the facades of chaos and insanity.