Beauty
There is beauty in the colors of the sky before dusk begins to fall,
just as there is at sunrise, when dark night gives way to morn;
beauty is in the fierce anger of a roaring, tempestuous storm.
It is in the quiver of an orchid and in the pride of a thorny rose,
in the burst of fiery color on a dying leaf before finally it falls
beauty is in the innocent eagerness of a young, pale green sprout.
It is in the placid silence of a forest lake, far from all the city noise,
it is there at high tide, in the rage of waves against the shores
and in the conflict of feelings belied by the calmness of your voice.
There is beauty when you love though you feel it is for naught,
in the quiet acceptance of fate, refusing to turn love into hate
and in that sadness we bear, for deep within, you know I care.
26 September 2015
Poem of the Day - 28 September, 2015
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