prelude

I’ve always noticed undeniable beauty. I’d walk around seeing every rose and sunset while watching others pass without a glance and feel awful lucky that my eyes were open. Yet I believe that the real special people are the ones that recognize beauty as it is in the places that are hardest on the eyes, and for all I know one of those people who passed me, earning my pity, might actually have been owed my envy. Being aware of the people and places where within beauty hides, only showing itself to a select few, who in turn are never the same again. Knowing grace and truth in all its forms, especially the most raw and untamed, is the most precious gift of all. Whoever has it needs to cherish it lest it is taken away from them. And even when it is gone, left to be presented to someone else who will either shun it or shine because of it, they will always have its memory. Though even if I am awarded this commodity, and from now until the day I lose it see beauty not so obvious, there’s always the fear within my heart that maybe it’ll be too hard. Perhaps seeing things that others try not to, searching for beauty that’s only sometimes found in the most horrible of places will be just the thing that, in my youthful ignorance, I’m not yet ready for. Or worst of all maybe I’ll find myself longing to feel the same awe that was once invoked in me when I witnessed the rising of the moon behind the clouds. To hope for the things that are easy on the eyes but hard on the spirit, the soul that has always seen truth and love in all things, has only to wait for its cage to catch up; its shell to wake.