Half a Sky {Poetry}

Beauty

A profound, inexplicable happiness,

High and strange glory is mine.

To see the beauty in a crumpled paper,

To make out its intricate design.

Strange beauty there is in a withered bloom,

The beauty of a half- dead flower.

It's a reminder of what might have been,

One of a kind in its early hour.

Eccentric is the beauty of a dilapidated building,

Overgrown with wild plants and moss.

Faint trails and wisps of rare sorcery and,

Raw magic in its broken state of flaws.

I believe in the elegance of these,

Broken, ruined, dying things.

Though they might be deemed wasteful,

By all other human beings.

For if there is beauty in sheer brokenness.

Or in a thing on its way to die,

If a crumpled, messed- up thing is lovely,

Then, I can hope that so am I.