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Where Pythagoras meets divine design,

Three points unite, a triangle unfolds;

Ancient wisdom intertwined with lines,

Beauty born of numbers, a story untold.

Three points unite, a triangle unfolds;

Kepler's vision, a cosmic embrace;

Beauty born of numbers, a story untold,

In the spiral's dance, a human face.

Kepler's vision, a cosmic embrace;

Imperfect symmetry, perfectly true;

In the spiral's dance, a human face,

Flawed and faceted, yet shining through.

Imperfect symmetry, perfectly true;

Where Pythagoras meets divine design;

Flawed and faceted, yet shining through;

Ancient wisdom intertwined with lines.

In sacred geometry, a shape takes flight;

Three points converge, a trinity divine;
Golden ratios whisper, ancient and bright;
A symbol of harmony, a cosmic sign.


Three points converge, a trinity divine;
Angles align, a dance of precision;
A symbol of harmony, a cosmic sign;
In the heart of the universe, a hidden vision.


Angles align, a dance of precision;
Shadows and light paint a mystical seal;
In the heart of the universe, a hidden vision;
Mysteries of creation, silently revealed.


Shadows and light paint a mystical seal;
Golden ratios whisper, ancient and bright;
Mysteries of creation, silently revealed;
In sacred geometry, a shape takes flight.

The beauty of the evening,

The blushing horizon in the west

I adore much the taste

Of sugary sweets blended

In the black coffee

In the mug of beautiful evening

Moistens my thirsty throat,

To alleviate an exhaustion

After my daily affairs.

The glow of appealing eve

Freezes to the stark darkness.

Thin cover of Black Satin

 Sets nightly all over my body.

The cool and soft warmth

Of my subconscious body 

Spins the deep slumber.

My whole body are then senseless:

By the immeasurable beauty

Of my beloved.

Warming me up at a snail's pace 

Plunges to an iridescent dreams.

After having dinner,

Nice reflection of  the glowing eve

Switches into gloomy night

I clean my hand and mouth 

And feel me cozy by the leftover

At the edge of my dinner plate

Midnight snacks sparkle

Like diamond inside the coal.

The midnight snacks

A few pieces of food desecrates

As the complexity of my life

Tastes saline as the ocean water do,

Comes out frequently

Of my dehydrated throat

Something more pleasant savors.. .

*

a poet spoke recently about not owing the world beauty. which has me thinking…what do we owe the world? cigarettes? nostalgia? laughter? leave no trace? or just our best? what should I do on my last day? take the (nonexistent) dog for a walk? call my mom? call my friends? kiss? be introspective? my best? what do I expect from you? pen pal words? a memory texted in the middle of the night? hugs? a quick passing? your best?

I know some would say we can’t all expect our best all the time. the adorable baby next to me on this plane is maybe or maybe not doing her best. but damn it, is she giving the world beauty. so what if I want to gift the world beauty sometimes or even most of the time? braid my hair into a waterfall, draw up a pink smile? paint a little bit of canvas every morning (or 4pm) with eye shadow. doesn’t the world, and you, deserve that? that little bit of love?