Poetry

Beauty

To see - that is our task.

To open one’s eyes to the overlooked,

the unnoticed, the nearly gone.

In the tilt of a sparrow’s wing,

in the frail hand of a flower,

in the way light bends before

touching the earth-

there, in that instant, is beauty.

Not the grand, not the gilded,

but the ordinary,

which we carry with us like breath.

Listen deeply.

Love the world enough to notice it,

To honour the quiet miracles

of leaf and stone,

to find in the broken,

the beautiful.

To love is to live with the door ajar,

with the heart undefended,

with the mind unguarded.

It is to be porous,

to let the world seep in,

to let it stain your soul

with the colours of all things.

And it is this way of seeing,

that makes us human.

To be open to the world

is to be woven into it,

to love it as it is,

without adornment,

without demand.

There’s something about

a person who can reveal

the hidden beauty in the world,

in the jagged edges,

in the smudged glass,

in the wayward path.

They are worth knowing,

worth loving,

because they hold the key