beauty, as we call it, is seen upon the laughter of a child who plays marbles under the morning sunbeams

a dog that, amidst the scorching midday sun, trails its master selling sorbetes to the kids who wear smiles and bruises on their knees

the crowing of roosters and the chirping of birds while the falling leaves of yellow acacia listen as they gracefully descend to the land

beauty, as we call it, is already seen only when our eyes see no war but peace