What is beauty?

Does it hide in obscure places?
Does it dance to symphony?
Does it tease its own existence
So close yet out of reach?

We spend our whole lives searching
For something we can see

To excavate the vision
We think would bring reprieve

But hold on for a minute
Tightly we lose our grip

What if the beauty we see
Is just a fantasy?

Perhaps to leave a mystery
Is clearer than it seems

That beauty may be measured
By invisibility