by Susan Schlabach
Come, Seeker-friend. Come.
Beauty is eager to be embraced.
Why do many, staring vacant,
We are Dead-dust, desensitized.
Come, Lord. Come.
Enfold us in Your beauty.
Touch our eyes, that we may see Yours.
And, in beholding, never look away.
Our hearts become aware of Your nearness.
Our feet feel the firmness of holy ground.
Come, Beauty. Come.
Though Plato declares it difficult,
It’s shockingly simple:
You, God, are Beauty.
And so, invading Earth,
An artist brushing his heart on canvas,
An author leaving living word legacies,
You place Beauty-marks
Everywhere You go…
Which is Everywhere.
Come, Struggle-human. Come.
See His beauty in the bread.
In the Spring-resurrection.
In Bliss-full baby smiles,
Cat stretches, strawberry blooms.
Slow and stop, and seeing,
Sit in the beautiful.
He beckons; your soul surrenders,
Your body being sanctified
Saved by Beauty.
Susan is a disillusioned idealist, passionate about literature, beauty, coffee, and cats.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy