Sculpted

Some thoughts based loosely around the phrase "Beauty is fleeting".

Sculpted faces in a crowd,
Chiseled by a master's hand,
And left to bask under the light of God
And every lesser man.

To see with eyes of sunburst green 
Or blue that shames all earthly seas;
To speak with tongues smithed out of silver,
Hidden behind lips the curve in unspoken need.

Savage in their adoration,
Lesser men must flock to stare,
To see the wonder put before them;
To kneel as oath bound acolytes at the feet of their deity.

Scorned though they are,
Beaten though they are;
Cast away as lepers 
With skin sloughing off.

And yet they pander to the needs of the sculpted,
For Beauty has made monsters of men.
Beauty has blinded humanity
With thoughts of perfection.

Given us bright eyes, smooth hair, strong jaws,

And curves or muscles in all the right places,
But behind them all there is a void.
Behind them all stands the shadow of time that will eventually reap what Beauty has sown.

And the sculpted will be left devoid of Beauty,
For she will have forsaken them for the suppleness of youth.
And all the world will carry on;
And all the world will forget those with sculpted faces.