Beautiful Things

We are made up entirely
Of black and white stones
That fill us
And keep us grounded
So that We don't
Float away.
This is fitting
Seeing as we are all
So Goddamn scared
Of moving
And of idleness,
Contradicting ourselves,
Holding ourselves back,
Pushing us over,
Running,
Growing old,
Growing young.
We don't make a lick of sense.
We are real
And fake.
We can listen to the same song
On repeat
Over and over and over
And over and over and over
Again
Because it fills us with a feeling
That we don't want to lose.
It reminds us of our dog
We lost,
We loved.
It reminds us of our childhood
We lost,
We loved,
We hated.
It reminds us of our friends
We lost,
We loved,
We hated,
We remember.
We envy and we create jealousy
Because we can not (or quite possibly refuse)
To see how ridiculously blessed we are
In every aspect of our lives.
We can not be thankful
For a peace of toast when we wake up
Welcoming us into the world
And saying
Hello!
Come along for the ride!
Don't we see
That the world is full of beautiful things.
Pink bicycles,
Cupcakes,
Paper and ink,
Green tennis shoes,
Grass,
Mandolins,
Smiling faces,
Old friends,
Wedding cakes,
Accents,
Miss spelled words,
The handwriting of a six year old,
Tears, for a thousand different reasons,
Christmas gifts,
Finding stories in the clouds,
Indoor plumbing,
Outdoor showers,
Heartbeats.



I Googled beautiful things, here's what the world came up with: