A vision that blots out the rarest pigment sunsets

Or mountain landscapes

Is there truly beauty in those things,

When apparitions of divinity walk along the Earth on two legs?

Does the moon but reflect the sun?

While their intellect out shines the rise of Helios.

There’s beauty in many found things

but perhaps in a muse that finds itself.

Can vibrant, Autumn leaves

or soft, downy snow

string words together that compel

writers desire to tear their hearts out in envy?

Will a zephyr or the avian song

bring chills with notes stagnate over millions of years

or the symphony composed

from a compassionate soul

who ne’er take life’s pleasures for granted.

Is it hubris to compare one

to both earthly and celestial wonders

maybe so

but I am ever so confident that I know the right of it.

For what could be held in such regard

But the vastness of beauty in a mortal vessel.