mindfulness · prose · writing

Beauty Lives

Beauty lives on desks, and shelves
…and everywhere you let it.
A yellowed photograph,
a seed,
a spool of thread.
A grocery list in a loved one’s writing,
a feather, or an empty chair resting in the yard.

It’s easier…
to see the things that aren’t beautiful:

the dishes, an unopened bill, a fresh zit.
A grease stain on a new pair of pants, a new scratch on the car.

It’s easier…

to crawl into that dark space in our head. There’s always room for us there to pull up a stool and it’s never closing time. The lights are low; it’s comfortable. Shaken, or stirred… you can have your mind-muddled cocktail of negative thoughts, your way. Topped with olives, of course. Swirling, swishing, sloshing around inside. The burn feels good. You don’t really like the way the words taste inside your mouth, but you get some sadistic, self-deprecating satisfaction out of the way they feel inside your head. You must. Or else you wouldn’t let them swish, swirl, clink around inside.

You could always get up, you could always walk out of that dark place. It’s light outside and there’s a world full of seeds and spools and yellowed photographs.

Beauty lives wherever you let it.

Won’t you let it?  

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