I met a woman
She was 70 years old and walked into the hospital with a pained limp
And a smile on her face
That an artist might struggle his whole life to capture
Her face was crinkled with an old scar and an evil red infection
Her hands were wrung with arthitis and the leg that limped turned out to be broken
But she was beautiful
Because she was so kind, and so ready to see beauty in the world
While being subject to such ugly circumstances
The world could have hammered at her with the infinite might of misfortune
And all calamity capable might rain on her with it's fiersome storm
Uncaring, unstoppable
Powerful in its unknowing chaos
Pummeling one who at first appears vulnerable
But with unending calm and perfect equanimity
She might regard it as a summer storm
Passing over, transititory and ineffable
Receiving the blows with unflinching peace
She might comment on the infinitesimal positivety
Cowering in the corner unnoticed by all but her kind and joyous perception
lesser souls would be broken by the weight of pain and misery
Drowned in a sea of their own tears
But a powerful Joy hides deep in the heart of this mild and humble woman.
Her soul is Viking and unassailable and when death takes her
He will surely ferry her to Valhalla to sit with honor amongst all warriors who fought and died battling the uncaring brutality of a world wrapped in apathy and heartbreak.
She is mighty
In the surety of her vision of a good world
That exists because she wishes it to
And because she wills it to
And so the world becomes more beautiful
Because she is in it
And she is beautiful