My joy

What is my joy?
Beauty itself.
The gods have spoken unto me.
Aphrodite, Venus and Parvati have
come to my aid.

I see their signs in an oozing warm smile
on a wretched day.

I hear music that points my sunken soul
to the souring place of inspiration itself.

I soak it in from the garden in which
the gods dwell among the flowers,
branches and leaves,
singing with the birds
and drumming with the wind.

I feel it in a photo, painting or dance
most glorious that takes my gaze,
and holds me frozen in its charm.

I perceive it whole in a grand scene
where the gods have shaped nature
with their sculptors’ hand.

But then I find it hidden in the most
unusual places where one would not
expect the gods to come, but there
they are in revelation to bring
beauty’s surprising unearthly spell.

What is my joy?
I am looking for thee, beauty,
emerging sweet and delicate from
among all the riches of this world.

Not wealth or show but the
generosity of the gods in the many
forms and shapes that bring
the magic of this richness alive.