Beauty is Basic

Oh moon.. what this beauty is?
Is it an anathema or a bliss?
Rumour is that you too are lovesome,
but smudge and obscurity,
don't command delicacy.

I fancy the folly flora
and loathe the spiny skin,
like folks of urban 
conducting the west indie jungle.
Both one and the same thing.

I caught out dirt residing,
in some most adorable countenance
and the ugliest of faces 
brightening big continents.

Oh moon.. my quest is mystic,
with no end, vicious elliptic.
Why men are allowed to be dark
yet they are called handsome,
while it's contemptible
for women to be low in shade.

What is beauty?
Where it resides?
In fairer skins
or in wholesome dims.
In triumphant wins
or in best played athletics.
In big lonely mansions
or in small filled huts.
In wrapping somat neck-tight
or in leaving as on the last rite.

Big eyes with no vision
or small ones with depth like ocean.
Being a companion of all
and end up being lone in brawl,
or having a less but cut-throat crowd.

Being bejeweled
with money atrociously earned,
or celebrating Christmas
by donating to some welfare fund.
Showing off to underprivileged
or pleading with royals,
when your God is always there.

Beauty is in soul,
it resides in viewer's glance,
Some find God in idols,
and some idol in God.

Beauty is basic,
Beauty is intrinsic,
Beauty is internal,
Beauty is eternal,
Oh moon.. my stare says,
"you too are beautiful."



 

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