Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
though the world's eye has become
fogged and
painfully vague.

Masked, hidden in the
darkness of empty, broken streets.
Beauty; kept under wraps
in the dust that has yet
to clear.

The flames eating away at the
empty, lonely houses
will never burn brighter than the
hearts and souls of children
watching their lives turn
to ashes.

The broken faith of the lonely
church girl living in the shadows
of her nightmares will never
echo louder than the men and women
on their knees, begging for
answers and questions, their hearts ripped
wide open.

The caresses and whispers of adoration
from the lovers under the luminous moon and
dancing stars will forever resonate louder
than the sounds of the crying child and
scared wife and mother, pleading
for mercy.

Dark pools of swirling colors,
the eyes of the infinite nations
will forever hold a mangled vision of beauty,
for their eyes have been scarred and torn
by the horror and pain the world gives
too freely.

Soon, the dust will settle; the scars be replaced
with a crystal clear vision of the potential
in every voice, heart, and soul of the weary.
The demons cast out, the nightmares ripped
from the pure minds of
the innocent.

Beauty will burn through the shadows, slaying the judgments, freeing the guarded hearts
from their self-built captivities.
The eyes of every man and woman will be cleared
of their stains and marks, allowing them to
feel, see, and embrace all that is beautiful.

The dust clouding the goodness, integrity, and hope of our broken down humanity
will settle.