Beauty

I look.
My eyes
have filters,
they color the
focus of my looking
changing beauty and love
and the deepest wonderment
into an object that requires my time.
Even into an object of annoyance and angst,
these are powerful filters, magic filters, they slide
back and forth with their mechanisms tied to my feeling.
The ropes and chains of their movement slide and withdraw
as the heavy feelings wind, grab and chew and release and give back
the filters move one after the other one back another on layer after layer
until all that’s in front of me is my angst and objects that keep me from love.
And so, one by one, I cut the cords of the mechanism, to heavy complaint
from my habits and my pride and my comfort, no one wants to be cut
and yet I want to cut, I do not want these filters to keep hiding
the beauty of my life, the wonderment that sits or stands
right in front of me, so available, patient and calm
the wonderment mourns, but not giving up
it remains, desirous to be recognized
and knows what it is and waits.
My filters slide and break
their ties un-bound
I see clearly the
wonder that
is always.
I look.

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