By JH Sayyar
O Beauty, fleeting guest of mortal days,
Thy silent touch makes dull moments gleam.
In sunset’s fire or moon’s ethereal haze,
Thou dwell alike in waking thought and dream
Neither any’s hand, nor painter’s brush may bind
Thy essence, shifting like the summer breeze
Yet hearts once graced by thee are never blind,
They seek thy echo in the rustling trees.
Thou art not just in form, but in the soul,
In kindness shown, in truth’s unpolished grace
In broken things still reaching for the whole,
Thou art the light and no shadow can erase.
Though time fades the face, the bloom, the hue
The heart that loves sees beauty ever true.
0 Comments