There is an innocent beauty to a flower.
Like that of a young child, first discovering their world.
There is a Magic to nature that will never be explained by science.
This is why we are here, to see, to listen, to breathe, to live and die on this earth,
and to reap what bounties we may from the life we may have lived.
You will find these treasures in the places you would least expect of them; perhaps the greatest beauty of them all is the flower that grew out of the cold cracks in the concrete, standing defiant against the cold desperation of the cities.
The earth fights back to win what it has lost, and it may yet claim victory.
There is a beauty in life,
as there is a beauty in death,
just as all things natural have their own beauty, their own light
Such do we also have a beauty, one and all.
We are only as beautiful as we believe,
whether we may be scarred on the inside, or scarred on the outside, we are still beautiful.
Only we know how beautiful we truly are.
