Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty.
-Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Beauty lies not in brash decisions that drive us,
Not the boost of praises earned,
nor mighty wins which fuel.
Not in the sight of something fragile,
or the low cries of a docile mind
nor tremors underneath thin skin.
Beauty lies not in these things,
in destiny that speaks,
nor the hands of fate that test.
Beauty lives not in strength of words,
Nor authority by which we’re bound;
no—none of these help us breathe in, or out.
The tenor of life is nothing more
than roses, blues, and yellowed hues
held together by subtle winds.
Could it be found among whispers from grand poets
The changing leaves all abandon their branches,
that embrace life’s color and spark?
Beauty may live alone in unlit rooms,
Simply dreaming droves of stars,
only there can beauty save an inward heart—
to reveal a soul’s internal wars.