When your hands are shaking,
With cold air,
Replacing the ink in your veins.
At that moment,
You see nothing,
You hear nothing,
But you feel everything,
Seemingly at once.
But if you started opening your eyes,
Instead of just feeling,
I consider it as a sense of stealing.
Stealing your right to beauty,
Starving yourself of the only
Amazement,
This world truly has to offer.
If you look down at your frozen
Fingers,
You won't feel the pain any longer,
But you'll see the beautiful hues,
Of dazzling blues,
Dancing before your skin.
Like the way stars,
Dance across the moonlight sky.
When you look at a storm,
Your body becomes numb,
Or your shrieks become shrill.
But you aren't looking at the storm,
Youre feeling the storm,
The rumours of what those around
You say.
What if you were to open your eyes,
And see something beautiful,
That doesn't cause havoc,
But calls to be heard.
Something similar,
To what shouts in the depth of your
Soul.
After all,
Something that needs to be heard,
Shouts louder after being ignored.
So maybe you'll see the storm in a
New way.
You'll look at it,
Rather than feel it,
You'll understand it's beauty,
Rather than fear it.
The swift movements,
The lightening that pleasures the sky,
With it's sudden brightness,
The raindrops,
Cleansing the world of its hatred,
And purifying,
As all once was.
The thunder roaring,
To be heard,
It's voice so powerful and rich,
So beautiful in it's fierceness.
When your tears won't stop falling
Down,
And the wet touches your cheeks,
You feel it,
You don't see it.
You feel the pain,
Lunging heavily at your heart,
But you don't see the beauty,
The sensitivity of your face,
As the tears drop down.
There's beauty in letting go,
In allowing your tears to take over,
It shows your human,
And do you not see the beauty in
Humanity?
Do you see the words formed on your
Paper,
The words you created in the midst of Your distress,
To turn another person's tears into
Smiles?
Perhaps if you look deeper,
Rather than feel the chaos around you
Rather than feel the walls closing in
On you.
Perhaps you'll see the truth,
Much like us,
There is beauty,
Found in distress.
~n.s
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Justice
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