FicWad

Beauty is a loose term.
No one knows how to use it.
A spring flower opening the petals to the first rays of tentative sunlight,
dew clinging to the soft green stem to delay the inevitable heartbreak of a fall.
That's beauty.
A girl smiling and laughing after the one who had possessed her heart for years
thrusts it back into her face with scorn.
That's beauty.
A song playing out into the ears of a unexpecting listener,
striking them to the core and shaking their faith with the honesty of pure notes.
That's beauty.
A newborn antelope jerking and rocking on spindly legs as the mother looks on,
convulsing the way into a first walk.
That's beauty.
But beauty is suffering too.
Beauty is not only triumph, or innocence, but angst and hurt.
A crying girl left alone in the world without a friend,
without love to carress and coddle her.
That's beauty.
The drops of blood running on the floor off a discarded razor,
the passion and fear released by the arm it shredded.
That's beauty.
Beauty is not happiness, sadness, pain or love.
Beauty is not honest or straight-forward.
In turn, beauty is feeling.
Beauty is feeling something so passionately that it stirs you out of your inactive state of mind and gives you a reason to pay attetion.
Life essentially is feeling.
Therefore, life is beautiful.