You Know Beauty

The sound of cricketts on a silent hill;
The buzz of a cicada basking in the lonely Spring sun;
The feeble sound of lightning and thunder rumbling at a distance;
The chords of the guitar in your favourite song; Hugh Laurie's Jazz;
The thin wail of the violin;
The Hans Zimmer score;
The soundtrack that waltzes with you;
The bark of your dog when it sees you;
The knock at your door you eagerly wait for;
The voice you absolutely lose yourself in;
The wingbeat of a hummingbird buzzing above you;
All of these sounds.

Home; Petrichor;
Biryani; Gasoline;
That person you've absolutely fallen for;
Old libraries, old books and book stores;
Parking basements;
Clothes washed at home;
That person who makes you feel warm and safe;
Your blanket and bed;
Dark Chocolate; tea and coffee;
Archaic buildings and their corners;
Wet flowers and leaves; the berry-mint chap stick;
All of their scents.

Biryani; Dark Chocolate;
Candy canes and cotton candy;
That tea your mother makes;
That coffee your father makes;
Shawarma and falafel;
Cake and ice-cream;
Mango, starfruit and kiwi;
Mud and dusty meshes when you were a kid;
Water at that perfect temperature;
Gatorade when you're thirsty;
Food from your local chat and Chinesewala;
All of these tastes.

Soft, dewy plants;
The cheeks and hands of the person you've absolutely fallen for;
A stray dog's wagging tail at your feet;
The warm embrace of your bed and blanket;
Jelly;
The panaceal touch when you're sick;
Water, at that cold-warm junction;
Warm cup of tea with a leaking nose;
Bubble-wrap and foam paper;
The unexpected smoothness of your pen's nib;
Perfectly fitting clothes;
All of their touch.

The excitement in balloons;
The romanticism in things you don't love;
The feeling of chemistry;
That wide grin on your face and
That faint glow in your heart;
The indulgence in learning;
The excitement in novelty;
The thrill in adventure;
Your imagination of a story told to you;
Any kind, good gesture; someone sharing yum-yum food with you;
The fortitude of friendship and family; somebody's faith in you and vice-versa;
The feeling in all these infinite abstractions.

What is beauty, you ask?
Beauty is in all of this.
Never mind that you can't see.
Beauty is what you imagine it to be.
You know beauty like I can't.
You know beauty without the perversions of reality;
Without the pictures etched into your eyes like stencils.
You know beauty, purely.
And that is all that beauty is- purity in how it makes you feel!