It is said that beauty Is in the eye of the beholder
But there is beauty one must be blind not to see
Picasso blue and Van Gogh orange
God’s Paintings on nature itself,
Mountain top views, clouds in a blue sky.
Flowers in full bloom, and Perfect sunrises.
But as common as a day of the week,
Are those beauties pleasing to see.
But as rare as the perfect sunset,
Are those raising the soul to heaven,
making us better just by the seeing.
And the rarest beauty of all,
Is that soul the eyes may reveal
Pen and paper, tapping on a keyboard,
Pouring out words no one will read.
Expressing the language of my heart,
In a futile attempt to capture the inspiration.
Fear and longing, insecurities and hope,
And dreams of what could be.
Possibilities found in an unknown soul,
Which shines out through those eyes.
Questions without words in silent prayers,
Eyes of the One or another muse?
Depth enough for a lifetime exploring,
Inspiration enough for true love,
or just for another poem?