There Is Beauty In the Ugly

I sing of the afternoon of life, Of beaches shifting in such tiny ways; Throes of death is what they are, Under the light of a softly dying star, When eyes full of wonder and hope Stare into a sky Made beautiful by the ugliness of transition And the contingent world of vision and smell Where only the blind and dumb can tell That life doesn't really give a about what you’ve done with yourself all these years. Let the rain and wind pick up a bit And clutch the world in a wet embrace. I don’t really care, you see. Let the drops mingle on my face, A beacon for what hides inside. I wear my disguise to bed each night And when I wake I certainly stand So that it's not noticeable. My window provides a stark picture of a dim horizon In the agony of acceptance That every day is a painful step closer, And those that don’t feel agony are numb. Or maybe just dumb. From the wisdom of poets long dead And the simple thoughts of those Who don’t mean anything to you Come the answers we seek: Words that illustrate our ideas And the satisfaction of knowing that Other people can feel the texture Of the thoughts you hold Inside. Surely wisdom has no higher price Than the realization that Everything you think and feel Has already been discussed. Beauty and understanding once meant something, But now they vie for attention with Baser things, trivial things Only meaningful in their relativity, Along with knowledge, (what a funny word) Which once meant knowing what was right And what was not and knowing the difference. Now it seems clear that true knowledge Is only the acceptance that We know nothing more than that which We cannot change. As flowers grow, bloom, and die, so must our understanding ever be compromised and evaluated. From the ramparts fall The sonnets of those most have forgotten, And maybe you’ll blink, mouth moving Like a fish in the sand, Gasping as you realize the futility Of accepting anything But what you wanted so desperately to believe, But like any myth, eventually you will uncover the trickery And try to accept it without anger or grief, Because once the movie’s over, You’re just in a big room of people Staring at a blank screen.