Beauty crowds me till I die,
It follows me everyday, every night, everywhere.
I can feel it watching, waiting...knowing,
that I know it's following.
It's disconcerting I find, to know it's everywhere.
I can smell it in the tree's, the wind, the crowds;
of people standing in small clusters, talking of the world around them.
The beauty, it's in colour, light, sound;
the way the world spins round and round.
It's found in rhyme, poems and books;
where the imagination breaks free and all I see.
Is beauty.
It's always there, in the strangest of places.
Street corners, where people gather;
to listen to beauty, simple and sweet, from the violin of a homeless man.
This is the beauty I've been talking about,
the kind most don't understand.
To know this kind of beauty is to suffocate in it;
to drown and panic and know that you can never escape it.
But you want to understand it, in an inexplicable way.
I can tell you though, if you want to know this beauty;
speak without talking, look without seeing and hear without listening.
To do this you need to heighten your senses and understand the world;
know that beauty will be with you until there is beauty no more.
Beauty is with me,
is crowds me.
And I suffocate under the knowledge;
that I will never see it.
I will never see the colours, the trees, the music;
words of poems and books elude me.
So I will listen, and touch, and speak.
But most of all I will look without seeing.
I am blind, but beauty crowds me.