Beauty

by der hofnarr

I walk through a field of unkempt grass
Caressing an occasional dandelion with my toe,
Thinking about the indelible past
As onward through life's journey I go.

'The moving finger writes, and moveth on'
And none are able to arrest the flow
Of time. But now, walking through this field
Even time itself seems to be gone
Or if not that, then moving very slowly
As if time were forced to yield
To a power greater than itself,
A power unbounded - even by time
And what is that?

It is the power of Beauty,
Which lasts forever in my mind.

What? Beauty in a field of unkempt grass, you ask
Well, I admit, 'twould be hard to explain
Affinity for a field of grass and worthless bane
But then again... who are you to question me
As to the beauty I can see?