“Where’s the beauty in here? I can’t find it.
A cat, a dog, and maybe some flies are all that is near.
The cat, she licks her paws in the middle of the street,
looks around stealthily, and then scuttles away, while
the dog lay lazy, under the shades of a tree
and lulls pass the hot summer day.
And the flies, what can be said about them;
they buzz, they annoy, they keep it straight,
they are here to wear, they tell personally in your ears.”
“Oh what a disgusting day it is, can anything worse ever be?
I don’t think so, and so do that white larvae crawling so near.
Don’t you take your legs away, it’s just creeping, legless
and you are way above, on your chair.
But still you are afraid, it seems. And what does it mean?
No, you don’t need to be shy, not with yourself, never again.
Tell me, what do you think? Today, will it rain? Maybe,
but the sun’s still hot and high.
There is some humidity, for sure, in the air, but what do we care?
Where is beauty? One day all of us ask, some aloud,
while others, drenched, in their heart; some with searching eyes
like it is their only chance. But what does it matter to us?
We both know one day we will know it all. Aye, that can be today.
Look at the sly cat and ask the larvae, what does it want?
Crawling slowly, basked in sunlight, it won’t shout it to you.
Borrow that dog’s ears and the sun’s glare.
And when your senses are about to be completely derailed,
the wind shall whisper to you that beauty is in the details.”