The beauty I point to
Is not superficial, not a surface thing
Nothing the mind can grasp or interfere with
It cannot be bought or sold
Forced or manipulated

The beauty I speak of
Is only discovered through
A kind of courtship with the beloved
We may say it reveals itself
In surrender, in tenderness,
In our embracing of grief
Or as we fall into the unknown
And let go

As the tears flow into the world
The invisible intelligence
That lives inside everything
Is fed by those tears
And offers itself back to us as beauty
This is the true joy.

Image by kangbch from Pixabay