Within Us

If I had ever learned modesty
(here, a mention of the hills
crowned with sun) I would have

known the contrite nature
of settled stones; their solemn,
grey and steadfast eyes.

But I, without a graceful fear,
find solace in the handsome rose,
glory in its proud, beguiling pose

or sunsets with their blood-filled
mouths, purple-silvered ladder-ed
light that climbs inside us.

We can be at no loss for words
that justify our dull and tired flesh,
confirms our ceaseless homage,

while in the duty of the night,
hands that fold and glances fall
must not deny that beauty lies

within us.