Beauty overlooking envy
“Look at me” he whispers, shouts, screams—
But all anyone ever sees is themselves, and are we so impressed?
What is a reflection? A gauge of outer beauty that only matters when one is looking.
What happens if I close my eyes?
What happens if I go blind?
Does your beauty stay?
Or does it fade like the sun below the horizon?
Does your beauty hold the same weight when everything looks the same?
Like black, like empty, like nothing.
Only brittle to the touch and sharp enough to cut—
Oh Narcissus, I could build a garden to your vanity
And still you would be unsatisfied.
“Look at me” you would still whisper, shout, scream—
Of all things of beauty upon which I could lay my gaze
I think I will choose these flowers over your garden any day.
The World Becomes Her
The world covers her hands—
In splatters of blue and green, red and yellow—
Paints her body with pieces of knowledge like stars in a night sky.
For she is truth and beauty
And lies and greed—gold with envy and naked with purity—
She is the world
And the world becomes her