Who knows beauty?
Who best to judge it’s worth and worthiness?
Is it the one that seeks the mirror
questing to reclaim and recapture
youthful paths walked too quickly?
Is it the one who thinks on time
and wonders at her illusive whispers
her seductive promise of life unchanged?
Even beauty ages, with her widsom turned
like leaves that graced greenly at the dew of morning
Change comes with silence to open new blooms
and darken the bright hues, to new shades of living
what is beauty, but a moment of vanities calling?
True beauty is somewhat more, I am thinking
than the shadow that slips away when brightest is the flower.
Who is best to judge beauty?
To glance and see with truth,
that which knew not it was beautiful
does beauty exist without being called
without being pointed and admired?
The best and most worthy of men is that which knows
but feels no need to chime, to ring, to gather admiring glances.
Who best to judge that which makes a heart leap, and thrill?
Love, is my simple answer.
For in love even the shabbiest gazed upon is given a new glance
Love transforms what was unseen
and makes believers out of doubters.
love never needed a doorway to it’s gifting
it is what it is..and it becomes more than one can contemplate
even in standing hours in front of shiny surfaces
searching for an answer
“why does she love me?”, he ponders
and love smiles gently at him..
for she knows..but seeks not to answer,
it is a secret she holds, but does not whisper.