"Beauty Seen," a poem by AMC
The fairest form most alluring, dressed covered in cloth hiding the hidden, The newborn eyes' first glance of wonder, causing arms and legs to bounce in delight.
Swirls of color, lines of curves taking shape before gaping eyes. Tones of silver and heavy hum of gold caress the ear with images of delight.
Born on Olympus? or mined from the caverns of Africa? Known only to the scholar? or buffet spread for the common man?
Blind can see and deaf can hear the beauty of Creation. Mountains sing, and clouds shout the song of the ages.
The discordant sound of the baby's rattle, the rhythmic thump of the musician's tympany, Each bring delight to the parent or to the maestro.
Is beauty a living thing pulsing in the pond or fluttering with butterfly wings? Is beauty in the color, the shape, the sound, or is beauty in the eye, the ear, or the mind of the person observing?
Or is beauty a sweet dish served up by a creator for the glee of the creation? Is beauty meaningless in its commerce, or is beauty the very definition of existence by its creator, declaring that it is very good?
I know it when I hear it in a child's laughter. I know it when I hear Handel's Messiah played. I know it when I feel the touch of a friend. I know it when I hear the final sigh of a Saint. I know it when I contemplate on the theorem of a mathematician.
Beauty is the imprimatur of knowing Well Done.