FLAWED

The pale winter sun caresses my skin

Glistening harshly on the puddles

Already evaporating, being absorbed

Into the rich dark soft mud

Where birds feed, pecking gingerly as they chirp

Evergreen leaves and bare branches

Swaying imperceptibly in the slight breeze

And beyond in the crisp blue sky

Wispy white clouds drift lazily

Beneath the all seeing mountains’ arms.

Surrounded by such sobering splendour

I am a part of the beauty of nature

Just another organism in the mud and mulch

A speck in the sky, on the breeze, through the trees

Just another isolated part of the majesty

That exists with and without me

Just another creature, another living thing

Neither possessing nor possessed

No different and quite un-unique.

With no make-up or brand names

No fashionable attire to which I aspire

No preconceived attitude and no material desire

I am naked and am thus able to feel

Stilled and silent I am able to perceive

The ghastly nature of your beauty

All painted and plastered with mirthless smiles in passing

Unseeing, untouched and unrelieved

Not in tune with your surrounds

Convinced that your will can subdue your environment

But what you imagine to be your beauty

Is nothing more than a vacuous ugliness

Hastily decorated and utterly exposed

Revealing the cracks in the grotesque façade

That you try so hard to conceal.

I prefer the still beauty of nature

Majestic, splendorous and perfectly flawed:

I detest the revolting nature of beauty

With its deceptive and fatal allure.