Does true beauty make or let one cry out?
If this has happened to you, there can be no doubt
in my mind - one is right, and one is wrong. Not to say
one is always expected to place a tear on display,
or play impassioned wails over the speakers in the crowded hall.
But if it feels like music to your eyes, and the layers start to fall
away - then congratulations! You’ve found something beautiful, assuming you care
to look long enough, staring beyond the glint and glare
of the glass. It sits smugly before you, pristine save for fingerprints smudging
its cape. Its cage. Its mask, it’s perspective nudging
your eyes and hands away from its prize. Your voice is all that’s left
and all that matters. Beauty can strip you down to your greatest asset -
in its absence, your voice only whimpers, and decays. Unrelated,
I haven't touched grass in 47 days.