Where Beauty Comes From

It does not come from rock nor lake, and it is not the sunset fair; though, be it fair your eyes must take what beauty arose from there. But when the dusk, relaxed in orange shade - I know the calm's my care - it's beauty in the day shall never fade and eternity takes me where, All the souls of careful ease erase the anxiety they cannot bare to face. Upon the midnight's persistent chase through dreams of ironwood and lace. Beauty is the grace of many smiles and symphony of laughter wild, it's the weariness of love that's travelled miles, the godly innocence of a child. It is the note composed by the depth of complexion, the wavelength of thought and the melodic connection. It keeps men true to tang and pitch, a composite alloy made - beauty is the unfound glitch, the ornamental jade.