The eye of the beholder and beauty keeps, virtues blessings in its deeps.
A voice, the image held in grace, a distance kept within embrace.
Beauty is not the sale on display, that throws itself to all the day.
It is the flower that will not spill, the scent at every careless will.
It holds its flame against the sky, with every wind that passes by.
It lights the night to wonderous spell, it is the day dreamed wishing well.
The freedom without any noise, as beauty has its own poise.
Poetic observation without bound, where rational thoughts are drowned.
Early morning clouds to become the sea, that ceases what it claims to be.
In the chamber's of the heart, love paints the dignity of any art.
Veiled touches in serene bold and true, so that what enters, enters through and through.
The doors one chose to open with one's own hand, not everyone can see what needs to be found.
Echoes of reflections to be confined, living treasures that hold the bind.
Being the instrument to this chain, values that appreciate the quiet gain.
True beauty walks as if in prayer, it knows to capture love in subtle layer.
True dignity outlives all history, human capacities in divinity.
To keep this magic of love as sacred sphere, confines that keep you dear.
Rescued by this precious immense, loving life very intense.
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