If you were to try to take me away from beauty, I would still know it, regardless.
I will know where it resides, for eternity, in this moment.
And if you were to walk me through all the hardships,
to show me the evidence of all but beauty,
I will still find it.
I will find it and it will disturb you, and it will continue to disturb you
until it seduces you,
and then, you will find it too.
Again and again, she will be unmasked,
in the most unlikely of places.
She will be celebrated and she will be hidden.
In the sound of a birth, the breath of an elderly.
The wilting of a single petal, unique to all the other petals, indeed, still perfect.
In the depth of the pain in the heart,
as much as in the core of the bone.
Even in there, is beauty.
Because.
Beauty is not something that is not.
Beauty is everything that is.
And in my identity, as a designer, as a poet,
Even in that, beauty dies,
When I forget that I Am,
as much and as little, as all around me.
When I remember - which I always do.
Often in the smile of the sun’s warmth,
or in the brightness of a cloudy day,
Then again.
I see beauty. And I always do.
Because I am beauty.
And so are you.