There are many beautiful people in this world. Men and women who make wonderful mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends. People who try their best and others won't ever know of their pain and struggles. Everyday people with lives and stories so rich that the best authors could never raise a pen to do the justice of retelling them. Stories that would shadow those which have been told. And so untold they should rightly stay, perhaps.
Faces with wrinkles so majestic, so noble. Scars of the finest fabric worn like a velvet cape of royalty through the aisles of gray cities and green forests. How exceptionally grand they are. May they be made aware of their loving essence and forgive themselves and others for what wrongs they've harbored. May the reflection that belongs to them be looked upon as an ultimate treasure. May the shades of their flesh be the pallet of the most inspired painter. Each regarded with bursting love and gratitude alike.
I know you all. I've been told I'm too patient, too understanding. I've been called naive. But dear, I can't find that true. I look up in awe as I see the most beautiful humans spinning around me in a work of such beauty that sometimes it overwhelms me and I cry in blissful tremors without warning. I see the kind stars of light in the night sky of a calloused spirit. The potential in the rolling waves of a vast ocean of youth. The power of the last burning ember of a once bright and wild fire. I look upon them with familial warmth. I speak to them as the spirited children they will always be. I touch them with loving hand to let them deeply feel this. I do know. I do understand. I do not judge you. I love you as you are my own flesh. All of you the same. The most beautiful untold, unwritten, unpainted work to ever be, my love, you are that.