Beauty

A poem about seeing life for the beauty that it is.

There's a beauty in the end.

By this I don't mean death,
but the closing of a chapter.
The ending of a song.
The silent pause at the end of a spoken thought.

The beauty lies within the ability to see.

That everything leading up to it,
was a work of art.
It was moments painted together.
Thoughts becoming a bigger picture.

The beauty is knowing that nothing is beautiful.

Beautiful is just a word given by the person,
who sees it fit in what they observe.
It's a dictionary definition.
An automatic descriptor.

The beauty is seeing reality.

For what it is in all it's chaos,
all the good and bad that surrounds it.
It's a mothers hug and a child's tear.
It's a war with or without a victory.

The beauty is in the being.

The routine of daily life,
and the sudden chaos from change.
It's knowing who you are.
Believing in what you know.

The beauty isn't just in living.

It's in the entire realm of life,
beginning, middle and end.
It's the first ray of sunshine.
And the final sunset.