Is beauty always beauty
or is it, by chance, enhanced
when found in unexpected places
or darkest homes of happenstance?
Is it really beauty at all
or does the contrast make it so?
A Zen Garden on asylum grounds.
Now that’s a place I know!
Or like the smokers cobweb
with amber gems aglow
hanging there above his desk?
It’s only nicotine, you know?
Reason’s hands begin to tremble
his conscious mind is shaken.
He cannot force an order to
scenes his eyes and mind awaken.
Zen Voice, then, takes a firmer hand
On these, and horrors yet untold:
“Good and ill are mere illusions
masking glories to behold!”
What breeds grim thoughts this splendid morning?
I am sure I do not know
but with light heart, cheer, and whimsy
I choose, today, to let them go!