The Beautiful, The Sweet - 1. The Beautiful, The Sweet

Ah the beautiful!

The sweet!

The things I hold within my palm

The play we are in

The show we perform

The silence between the shout

Surrendering youth to experience

Surrendering bliss to exhaustion

Ah the Beautiful!

The Sweet!

The summer we create

The autumnal song we orchestrate

The gasp at every stab

Acknowledging the blushing cheeks

Acknowledging the disappearing days

Ah the Beautiful!

The Sweet!

Every notion of every glance

Every triumph of every man

Every failing of every king

Its what I hold within my palm

I see the colours in my dreams, I dream of writing poetry, It is the beautiful, It is the Sweet, It is the loud exhale of my trialing self, trying to combat a television world, with words, with the beautiful, with the sweet.

I hear a great symphony

A chaotic challenge of musical beauty

I can see into the grey darkness

A heavy weight that bursts with idea

I think of the high pitch of life

I think of the hard thud of falling men

I think of pine forests

Of pine needles and shards of light

And the gentle fingers of each little wave

Grow bigger

The gentle fingers undress me

The gentle fingers pull me out

And I RIDE, I RIDE…

Far from the shore, from the world

From the butterfly that illuminates

I ride the edge of froth upon the wave

Like a king upon a chariot of ivory

And I scream

‘AH THE BEAUTIFUL!

THE SWEET!’

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