| |
Nothing
is important except the
beauty that I see this morning.
|
The
sunrise sits, dark red
In
the valleys of the black mountains.
Pools of molten lava.
|
|
| |
Time
around me is but a dream.
only this moment, and the beauty here
is real
|
Sunlight
bounces off
The blue glass building on the corner.
It lights and dyes the asphalt
The palest greenish blue. |
|
| |
There
isn't anything that
really matters except the
beauty of this instant.
|
Dark
green trees, new leaves,
Light green painted on the ends of the branches
A delicate hand and a dry brush.
|
|
| |
The
battles and frustrations of the
day are insignificant. Dwarfed
by the intensity of the beauty
that I see before me.
|
A
bluegreen bush,
Decorated with blue berries and pink flowers,
Delicate and defient,
Blooming in midwinter's rain. |
|
| |
Pain
and fear are but fleeting
illusions. The world is this
beauty and it is timeless.
|
|
A
black silhouette of trees,
Against a red horizon,
Under an indigo sky,
Where hangs a single bright star.
|
|
| |
This
beauty alone is real.
There is no pain in this moment.
This moment is all.
There is beauty.
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|