Beauty, the true kind of beauty,
That might be called the radiance
Of the inner world
May be glimpsed unexpectedly
But, like the chase for awakening,
It is elusive and will not return through will
Yet it is not hiding, we are

But beauty may be courted
And nurtured with deliberate intent
Through surrender of willfulness
Through opening the heart even in hell
Through celebrating even in the wreckage
Through deciding to see goodness
Not in an offhand superficial way
But really seeing if goodness is there
Behind all this conflict

The ego is a mask
Hiding the true face of beauty
That beauty may be vulnerable, tender,
Or fierce and wild
It is the soul calling out
It might even be the soul of the world itself
Calling out to us, remember me, don’t forget me

When I learned that beauty was hiding
Inside me, like a secret intelligence,
I went in search of it
And in the process became a true lover of love.

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay