Beauty
There is a beauty.
A beauty like a connection with the past and future.
The beauty is shining.
The world revolves around it.
It seems everything is drawn towards it.
The beauty is magnificent and unrealistic in size,
Like a vast source of identity or maybe a way to happiness.
I stay in front of it
And look deeply.
The beauty forces me to move forward with it
And to forget the past.
But there is always something in the past
Which is hard to forget, something brutal and unpleasant?
Maybe it is a memory of a war;
Or cruel or unjustly order,
Which settles like a heritage in my mind.
Beauty moves me forward
And redeems me from the past.
I stand in front of it
And stare deeply.
How much is its territory?
Copyright © Frough Samiei | Year Posted 2016
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