Beheld
Beauty beheld by a devil
Would fury and lust incite
Taunting him to revel
At things lovely and bright
And only annoy and dishevel
The beast like a collar too tight.
Ugliness happened upon,
Say, a carcass that lay in the road,
By a being much wiser prompts parallels drawn
Between dead dog incisor and silver and gold
For to only a saint would it ever dawn
On the saint as a thing to behold.
Far be it for us to decide
If the tendency, blessing or bane,
Gives the zealot convenient places to hide
Like a judge too lenient on those who bring pain
Or the serial killer a lovable side
Excused for his natural drive to disdain
Or the servant, content to serve,
Feeling blessed for being alive
While the privileged scoff as they take an hors d'oeuvre
As he earns just enough for his child to survive
And never once thinks of the nerve
Of his master, blinded by drive.
If neither side can be dissuaded
To yield this same elective,
Their perusal, predicated
By stubborn refusal to wax objective,
Leave both cherished and hated
Victims of perspective.
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