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
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.