I once heard that sadness gave birth
To the greatest of art.
But where is the beauty in cold doom
And darknesss?
The beauty between the lines, perhaps?
The possibility,
Of some cracked conclusion?
To end all delusions, with either mental upliftment or demise?
Upon heavy thought,
I channeled this pondering to be written, only to realize that this is the answer to the questionable beauty in sadness.
'Tis only beautiful when seen,
And 'tis only seen when shown,
And most of us are too scared to do so,
Other than to type our stories here.
This is where beauty in sadness is born. This is the art it creates.
So to all my fellow poets,
To my comrade lovers of prose,
Fret for as long as you need to.
Your beauty is seen,
Admired,
Appreciated.
But let it be known that,
On the flip side of your mind,
The world sparkles, glittering
For all of those who pull their hearts up from the wreckage
to see it.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
I once heard that sadness gave birth
To the greatest of art.
But where is the beauty in cold doom
And darknesss?
The beauty between the lines, perhaps?
The possibility,
Of some cracked conclusion?
To end all delusions, with either mental upliftment or demise?
Upon heavy thought,
I channeled this pondering to be written, only to realize that this is the answer to the questionable beauty in sadness.
'Tis only beautiful when seen,
And 'tis only seen when shown,
And most of us are too scared to do so,
Other than to type our stories here.
This is where beauty in sadness is born. This is the art it creates.
So to all my fellow poets,
To my comrade lovers of prose,
Fret for as long as you need to.
Your beauty is seen,
Admired,
Appreciated.
But let it be known that,
On the flip side of your mind,
The world sparkles, glittering
For all of those who pull their hearts up from the wreckage
to see it.
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