Isn't it?
The Unpredictability of life,
The spontaneous nature of people,
The will to do more,
So much to be grateful for.
So much to look forward to.
So much to love.

over millennia the question
     what is beauty
has occupied the minds
of great philosophers

museums, galleries, and private homes
     as well as public monuments
display the sculptures, paintings, texts, and movies
created by the artists of all cultures over time
with figures, colors, poems with(out) rhyme

looking at that variety
I do remember words of one much older
     “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”
Picasso speaks to one, Velasquez to another
some prefer Shakespeare, others e. e. cummings,
in movies we find Billy Wilder or Fritz Lang
right next to Eastwood or Sarandon

which of them we enjoy with great abandon
depends on whether  they can touch our heart and soul,
move us to tears, stir our thought,
or simply leave us speechless

we have that soft spot for the beautiful
reminding us that there are things that go beyond ourselves
     they touch us gently
     like the morning songs of elves

till suddenly the brilliance of human art
reaches the very depths of our heart

sometimes I wonder why I bother
to force myself to tell an other
what are my feelings and opinions

why do I struggle to attempt to phrase
words that inhabitants of faraway dominions
might also understand and not erase
an alien text for lack of recognition
of what it tries to say

is it just egomaniacal vanity
born of conviction that my words
are so important that only nerds
would not appreciate the wisdom
inherent in my thoughts

or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession
to spew forth words without control
and flood the world and every living soul
with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning

I guess I write in order to communicate and share
exchange ideas across all boundaries
learning the thoughts of many different people
and in the process become even more aware
how much we share and have in common

carrying away once more the recognition
that division has always been
      and still remains until this day
the favorite tool of greedy politicians
against which poets   firmly   should hold sway

They say ,
When you stop wanting something,
"You receive it".

How funny and contradictory,
I gave up ,got fed up with heartache,
Made peace with being alone,
No Cinderella story for me .
I was happy for those who found it
I'd rejoice with them
Not even feel envious.
I was okay.

Then out of the blue,
With so much intrigue and complexity,
He showed up ,
Being perfect, treating me right.
Saying the right things,
Igniting passions inside me, I had long killed.

I Pushed him away,
Till I couldn't anymore
And I opened up ,
Knowing all the risks.
I let him in.
Didn't feel like much then.

I thought ,
It wouldn't last ,
Told myself not to like him.
******* me.
Cupid must be laughing
Because now I see all the signs,
Signs I've been so familiar with.

Beginning of the end,
I feel the crush in my heart,
The pain that can't just be erased.
The reality of why I had given up.
The reason to give up again.

I can be happy alone,
Doesn't mean I'm lonely.
Some things just aren't meant for me.
You've had your fun cupid.
Now let me go please.
Let me go heal.

Can we ascend beyond the realms of
what lays beneath out feet.

Wondering like dust particles on the
tempest of the nothingness.

Seeking  the seeds of creation that lay
in the realms of others treading carefully.

We may be particles in a void of infinity
but even dust can make ripples in its wake.

*"We are children of the universe, creativity
expects us to draw upon the stars,

every day we learn
how many died of violence
in any corner of the globe,
be it in wars,  by terror,  
fundamentalist fanatics,
gun-toting psychopaths and haters,
or all of the above

the figures seem to grow
the daily death toll makes us callous
what earlier was horror
has turned into ****** routine

so much so that
when there’s a day we do NOT hear
about some grisly ******
we feel like we have got a bargain!