deepundergroundpoetry.com
Beauty In A Beast (Might Be My Last Post For A While)
You Know, Its Only When You Realize That You Are/Were Completely Blind That You Can See How Truely Amazing And Beautiful Something Really Is... I Wish I Wasnt So Fucking Blind All The Time. Maybe I Would Have Seen More Amazing, Beautiful Things. Maybe I Wouldnt Have Seen Ugliness In Things That Were Only Different Than My View Of Beautiful. Maybe There Would Be Less Ugliness in My Life If I Chose To See Its Beauty Instead Of Be Repulsed By Its Unfamiliarity To Me. From The Outside Looking In There Was Never Ugliness, There Was/Is Only Me Standing In Front Of Myself Reflecting What I Felt Inside Of Me. What I Feel Inside Of me..So Why Do I feel Ugly? Maybe I'm Too Blind To See Myself. How Do I Find Beauty In Ugliness? How Do I Accept The Things I Find Ugly About Myself As Beauty? Its Easy To Look At Your Misjudgement Of Others And Realize That It Was/Is A Misjudgement. But How Do You Realize The Misjudgement Of Yourself And Try To Convince Yourself That It Is, In Deed, A Clouded judgement? Its So Easy For me Too Look At A Dead Tree And See Its Life And It's Beauty, Or A Rusty, Beaten, Old Car And See Its Color And The Beautiful Life It must have Had, Or To Look A Person That Looks Unatractive And See A Million Things About Them That Is Truely Beautiful And makes Them JUST as Desireable As Someone Who Looks Attractive. So Why Cant i look At Myself And See Those things? Why Do i Project My View Of Self Unto Others And Find My Own Ugliness Inside Of Them? It's Not That They Are Ugly, I Just See The Ugliness Inside Of me Inside Of Them And I Am Repulsed By IT Not THEM. What Am I looking Passed Inside Myself? What Am I Not Seeing? What Is Keeping Me From Seeing It? How Do I Find It Before I Become My Ugliness? How Do I Keep It From Leading Me Blindly Passed Everything/one Around Me That Is Truely Beautiful? How Do I Find Beauty In A Beast? A Beast That Is Not Really A Beast, But Just A Person With A Distorted Reflection Of Himself. How Do I Find My Reflection In A Place Full Of Mirrors With Painted Faces On Them?
Maybe We Are All Just Ugly And Beauty Is The Disguise..
Maybe We Are All Just Ugly And Beauty Is The Disguise..
Published 18th Dec 2012
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18th Dec 2012 10:03pm
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?
Marianne Williamson said that. And I agree. Maybe what you’re seeing isn’t the ugly you believe to exist within yourself, but the light you feel burns too brightly. The reason we know beauty is because of the darker shades that support the colors. We know of light because it sets off the dark.
Have you ever seen a tree, with leaves far past dead? The green décor that once made it beautiful lies around it in a macabre scene of past. But true beauty, not the kind dictated by color or glory, shape or size, lies in the gray, skeletal branches that reach like twisted fingers for the sky. The beauty there is embedded in the strength to endure. A tree without leaves contains a beauty most would call ugly, plain, and disfigured. But it is a declaration that not many wish to really acknowledge – that once the gown of colors has been removed, if we have not strengthened what is beneath it, then in the seasons of winter we will crumble and snap beneath the weight of the snow.
Maybe what you’re seeing is simple the kind of beauty that you hold, that others do not recognize in themselves. The ability to stand strong, provide, and lift your face to the heavens despite the snows of adversity.
Marianne Williamson said that. And I agree. Maybe what you’re seeing isn’t the ugly you believe to exist within yourself, but the light you feel burns too brightly. The reason we know beauty is because of the darker shades that support the colors. We know of light because it sets off the dark.
Have you ever seen a tree, with leaves far past dead? The green décor that once made it beautiful lies around it in a macabre scene of past. But true beauty, not the kind dictated by color or glory, shape or size, lies in the gray, skeletal branches that reach like twisted fingers for the sky. The beauty there is embedded in the strength to endure. A tree without leaves contains a beauty most would call ugly, plain, and disfigured. But it is a declaration that not many wish to really acknowledge – that once the gown of colors has been removed, if we have not strengthened what is beneath it, then in the seasons of winter we will crumble and snap beneath the weight of the snow.
Maybe what you’re seeing is simple the kind of beauty that you hold, that others do not recognize in themselves. The ability to stand strong, provide, and lift your face to the heavens despite the snows of adversity.
