On Beauty II

By

George O. Obikoya

Beauty is the balm of time; joy of my soul;
my comfort when life is too much to bear;
dread besets my morn and misery makes my day;
the face in the mirror is unlike that on me;
and weird thoughts mire my mind by now unwell:
the trait of fate in the void it begs to leave;
that trails me from cradle to its pitiless crypts
to be sure my eyes scorn beauty, divine;
the glow of innocence of deified faith;
missive of endless love, godly beauty bears. 

But winds of truth bend grief in a hopeful mind;
hope that truth reveals in beauty braces my faith;
to endure the sorrow of time; and in the end, 
taste victory in beauty; not of void;
as merry dreams banish my woes and throes for good;
angels in silk soutane sing sacred songs of praise;
heavenly beauty native to worldly planes
take my mind away from the labyrinth of blaze;
and grief, fear, and tears have no place to stay
as truth, in beauty, smears ghosts in void.

Radiant in its glory; subtle in its grace;
like twinkles in a starry sky truth lights my mind;
lightens the fading embers of love now on hold;
binds my fancy lest my lewd eyes go astray;
saves me from the mask behind which disguised;
my mind worships beauty with a fickle tongue;
that tangos, dazed by the finish of the rose;
its dainty ruby whorl tinged with the charm of wine;
adorned with rainbows on the wings of a fly;   
yet my mind struggles with faith for truth to reign.
                                       
Forever will truth stir me like a mug of ale;   
beauty devour my soul like heated lovebirds,
each other, with zeal and grace, lost in embrace;
enchanted by faith, suffused with hope and love;
as my eyes see what my mind believes; my mind,
what faith bestows; faith, the truth; ever laid bare;
beauty, that my mind must relish not abuse;
value not for gain but to rouse my hope;
in heavens so near yet far away and truth
in the beauty of images made or lent.

My faith in beauty is my armor for aye:
that is all there is to trust on an earthly plane.
My eyes will try for sure to be pure and true;
to feed me with pleasure; and beauty in pain.
So will my mind in hope that my void will fade;
for the sun to warm my weary spirit again;
a daystar to burst beneath the clouds on my face
to lighten my darkness with its cosmic grace;
relieve my soul of the endless burden it bears
to watch me totter, in a wicked void lame.

That shame bewilders my soul will awaken me;
to act with faith even confined in numbing crypts,
to know what blinds my mind to truth beauty breeds
what the joy it sires means; let alone the pain;
why the balm of beauty sometimes also scalds;
like magic, sapphire eyes are crimsoned with rage:
wars are waged over a heap of sand in nothinland,
where children die of thirst and hunger next door;
and lose limbs playing hide and seek on minefields;
their parents trail body bags on news bulletins. 

The solemn force of life in beauty may faze;
as travesty often colors its divine grace.
My heart its pendant lance of frozen tears bleeds;
and the glistening ice on my face time melts;
remind me of its transience, joy, and its pain;
the treachery of a covenant of truth
that steers clear of faith to rest in crypts;
where surly minds engage in pointless affrays,
for primacy of the mundane truths they create
from images that innately bear the truth.

My soul relies on my mind that now shivers,
to see nothingness everywhere my eyes look;
anguish for gods in expiation of guilt;
as pain may kindle hope in the gloomiest minds;
in those lives that may seem irreparably ruined;
for whom so little is left to justify hope;
bolster and rally their spirits for a new dawn;
to carry on anyway and defy the void:
to reject truth that is devoid of faith;
for the inestimable joy beauty brings.

The unity in images in my mind tells;
as even the littlest of the divine bonds;
for the glory of truth in beauty to shine;
as ever, they waltz in sync to ravish my soul:
in icicles whose crystals glitter and pierce;
as the serene arctic summer midnight sun;
the gorgeous canvasses of masters of yore;
for unlike parts unite into a working whole;
as chaos and chance bond into godly truth,
bared, in beauty, my mind's ultimate joy.

Beauty is the trove of the pearls of life;
the divine masterpiece of eternal truth;
jewel beyond valuation my mind adores;
utmost mimesis of masterly artistry;
that my mind with humility seeks to emulate;
that it may shun the vice, vile, and wile of the void's;
lingering presence that forever plagues my mind;
blinds me to its trickery; to my epiphany;
fills my days with sorrow, tears, and pain;
that my mind may lack truth in beauty it craves.