Putrid.

A Poem by Dee Cole

We are all putrid in the end.
Beauty is ephemeral as a snowflake is in the summer.
As ephemeral as a singular lightning bolt in a storm.
We cannot hold beauty inside ourselves forever.

Yet beauty is everywhere the eye can see and the ear can listen.
It is in the trees, in the mountain, in the skies, and in the seas.
Humanity rides on the waves of beauty, striving to maintain perfection.
Their effort is in vain. Perfection is a lie, a myth made by hopeful dreamers.

Some people look upon the world and see a perfect system, blind to its many fallacies.
Do not be like them, for the world is yours when you truly perceive it for what it is.

Yes, beauty is everywhere, and you cannot escape its hypnotic gaze.
Yes, it is in the trees, the mountains, the skies, and the seas.
You may see it in yourself, in another, in the world before you.
You may think that this beauty will never end.

But we are all putrid in the end, this you will see.

But who am I to tell you this, for I, too, am as putrid as the rest.