The day I spied on Beauty of the world

His days are spent in the search of things he understands and of things he understands not. Such was the day when he spied upon the scope of eternal beauty that moves the world. It was an ordinary day, and dusk has fallen on the horizon, with her handmaids. There was anything but peace around him, as the restless mind had created a sense of chaos around him. She sat beside him, as he preened away from her ugly glance. "I am superior," was his thought, as he moved away from her. Frail, with the poison of the world in her, she sat, there immersed in her gloom. It was a chance movement, which caught his stare. She moved the tendrils of her hair, and he spied upon the world of beauty around this world of gloom. Beauty is there for those, who can see, it is there for those who can understand it. It is like the silent glow that comes on your face, when you see the Beloved alone, or it is like the way you glow, when you stand before your Maker. Its there when you see the eyes of the anxious mother, whose heart beats for the son, who is in trouble. Beauty is there in the prayers of the mother, whose son, the world has condemned. Nature, he thought, thou art my mother. Pray for me, mother, as I pray for me. Help me, and protect me, give me an entrance to the world of beauty, which you have unveiled for me. Alas, he knew not, the world is for him to savour and for him to worship alone. Beauty, he understood, is for those, whose tears wet the cheek and it is for those, whose eyes have understood what beauty is all about.