Sweet mists of morning, and rose red mystery,
So much color all around, nothing is left to see,
Orangey mists of twilight, a tangerine surprise,
I can't see pearl stars, for beauty's in my eyes.
Golden mists of afternoon, hazy clouds in grass,
Pretty as a silken flower, though it will not last!
Deep purple midnight mists, so airy and dreamy,
Wafting in my gardens, in the moonlight creamy.
When I'm deepest green
beneath clear blue skies and seas
cascades of flowers!
Then bliss hours of my beauty
and my radiant good health.
In blue hours of green
birds sing and there's abundance
planetary dream
I hope soon days are coming
......
petals open blooms
to bursts of noon sunshine wow
eyes sudden surprise
blasts of sweet fragrance
wander beneath sun and stars
to thrill the senses
fiery eruptions
in bold pops of rich color
......
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
......
Veiling, barely, his dread
Beauty and its blaze,
An angel sets warm bread
and cool milk at my place.
His eyelids make the sign
Of prayer; I lower mine,
Words interleaving vision:
--Calm, calm, be ever calm!
Feel the whole weight a palm
Bears upright in profusion.
......
swept to the housetops
on fragrant breezes so fine
petals in the wind
hues flying springtime
when the world has come outside
cherry blossom rain
saffron clouds creeping
in warm sunshine of our days
......
You see that butterfly?
It’s beautiful right, but isn’t it also a bit scary, when looking at plain sight.
I don’t know about you,
But it sometimes seems like that beauty is not always good to have or to yearn for.
What is even beauty?
Is it something you can measure by asking the population’s opinion?
Is it something I have to conform to depending in what beauty world I live in?
I am my own person, and I don’t want it any other way, but the butterfly is sometimes still there, flying around, questioning and pestering you.
But when you touch it it’s apparently dangerous,
Because then it’s not able to fly anymore.
......
Sweet mists of morning, and rose red mystery,
So much color all around, nothing is left to see,
Orangey mists of twilight, a tangerine surprise,
I can't see pearl stars, for beauty's in my eyes.
Golden mists of afternoon, hazy clouds in grass,
Pretty as a silken flower, though it will not last!
Deep purple midnight mists, so airy and dreamy,
Wafting in my gardens, in the moonlight creamy.
When I'm deepest green
beneath clear blue skies and seas
cascades of flowers!
Then bliss hours of my beauty
and my radiant good health.
In blue hours of green
birds sing and there's abundance
planetary dream
I hope soon days are coming
......
petals open blooms
to bursts of noon sunshine wow
eyes sudden surprise
blasts of sweet fragrance
wander beneath sun and stars
to thrill the senses
fiery eruptions
in bold pops of rich color
......