by David Martin
What is beauty; except that which you hold.
Who among you can claim that which is due.
Tried by the fire and yet you come forth anew.
Your experience is worth more than gold.
The heavens view you as life to behold.
Strikingly radiant, the sun-kissed hue.
And with each new breath, from the dirt you grew.
We watched it unfold, your future untold.
You were resilient from the very start.
They couldn’t close your book or story.
Tossing and turning, nor slumber, nor sleep.
At one with the source, life sprang from your heart.
For no longer blind, we basked in your glory.
Like a bird, all we had to do was leap.