Category: Poetry

The poet’s job is to awaken the imagination
to open the door to the mind
that sets you on a journey

The writer can make the smallest, the insignificant beautiful. It can be said that beauty is the skeleton of beauty. The leaf falls without anyone noticing that the abyss is there.

I have no idea what beauty is or how it might be defined. But I am intrigued by what St. Augustine said about it: “Beauty is indeed a good gift of God; but that the good may not think it a great good, God dispenses it even to the wicked.”

Beauty is resilience. It’s the revolution of the earth, the grace of the new year, the homecoming of an odyssey. It’s the edit after creation, the maturation of an idea. It’s the transformation of one thing into another, the refusal of matter to be destroyed. Beauty is a mutable moment and how we attempt, again and again, to convey it, no matter how vain the endeavor.

It was the beautifully unexpected, the shock of sudden music becoming a reality. This is what life should be filled with (although not filled too full, or its power will fade), and what all art secretly strives for, looks towards, and embodies.