You glided into my mornings, always a little late. Always more eager. And always willing. Like a baby bird to sunlight, you peaked with excitement, and turned my quiet world upside down.
Beauty, I miss you.
Like a new city, you slowly taught me how to love you. And then there was no turning back. You are not ordinary.
To love you, is to love patience. To love you, is to love the anticipation that comes with watching an artist at work. The masterpiece might take years, but the yearning for the priceless piece it will become, can never falter.
You are the masterpiece, and I, the observer.
I watch the world claim a hand at your canvas, I watch painters battle to be the ones to complete you, I watch the world wait for a chance at the brush, long for one stroke, a single dash of paint, or even a first glimpse, and I smile at the simple truth they all seem to miss: Beauty, they don’t know that it is you. You the painter, you the canvas, and you the art; while the rest of us remain your muses.
Beauty, I miss you. Like happiness, you pulled me into your world and your mind filled me with joy. Not alien, but a beautiful beautiful part of the earth; Beauty. . . Like an element you seeped into my words and found the child in me. Your quiet eyes betrayed your laughter, so I joined in with a roar to keep your secret safe. And then there were two.
But Beauty, I miss you. You whispered faith while the world echoed hate. You whispered love, while the world tore through. You whispered love, and broke my heart in all the right ways. How did we come to be?
Beauty. I miss you. The space we shared was profound. Like a force, you kept this storm from floating from the earth. Like a lover, you let me go at all the right moments, and like a soul-mate you held on so perfectly. I still remember the day we first met. . . who would’ve thought?
Beauty, it took us time to get here. But here we are.
I have seen you grow. I have watched you peel layers, watched you paint, repaint and sun dry the brilliance that is you. I have watched you come into a grace, perfectly powered by something so new in you.
You make me proud.
But Beauty, we must ballet. We must dance and prance and Mardi Gras across this world.We must shake and wake and stir up an avalanche. We must roar. We must rise. We must PEAK. Beauty, I miss you. But don’t you know, we must just begin.
The show is far from over.