Beautiful (A Poem)

She is beautiful,
Distracting, from the mountain landscape,
Stopping my breath as I forget I need to breathe.
Stealing the Sun from my view, I absorb her upon the horizon.
 
She is beautiful,
Mixing with the fragrance of flowers that line our trail,
I hear her voice, silencing the songbirds in awe,
To feel her touch is to feel the hand of God Herself.
 
She is beautiful,
The mixture of rain and dirt has birthed such wonderful fruit,
Her tears uniting with the ether to spawn such exquisite virtue,
The stars can only hold her in such high esteem.
 
With her, I am beautiful,
A man whose folly has led him to such repose,
A soul who’s lived in sweet expectation,
A heart shattered to expose the truth beneath.
 
In her, I see the world, beautiful,
The air crisper, the sky more blue,
The waters flow clean, effortlessly down the way,
I bend my lips to drink from her recovery.
 
There, beside me still, beautiful
She lives either in hope or memory,
A whispered promise, a tempered prose,
I spring alive in my aloneness, found.
 
And it is beautiful,
A man not living on their bread alone,
A soul recognized in the heap of his distraction,
In her, that empty space that knows her name.
photo by: James Jordan

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